I faintly hear the metal frame of a bed grind against springs and screws
The sound of coming loose in the next room, both the bedframe and you
i tried to find solace in the television screen but the only distraction it has to offer me is an uncomfortably relatable message that reads: “lost connection.”
Im drunk again on a friend’s couch, keeping count of consecutive nights I’ve avoided my own house
And my sobriety
Pale ale prayers at four in the morning are the only times you’ll hear me confessing but not to god

just another ceiling

A year is a long time to carry the weight of your name

but i’ve brought it as far as we’ve drifted away

Along with souvenirs of sentiment we shared before the shipwreck

I kept all the things you left to sink and they make me ******* seasick

An ocean apart now, a few times I near drowned

trying to swallow old memories I should have just spit out.

They burned like water in my lungs and turned to sea salt in my mouth

that left a taste that stung my gums and made your name hard to keep down.

A year is a long time to carry the weight of a name that won’t respond

across an ocean between my voice and the person to which it belongs.