i saw you at a concert hall with your new lover
and every violin hit the floor with one harmonized crash
i went home and
shattered every picture frame but
the glass only cut your name in my skin

something inside me snapped so clearly
i can still hear it loud enough to wake me from my dreams
like a slammed door
a gunshot
the phone line clicking mid sentence before you can say goodbye
the silence after you watch the last piece of your house burn to the ground

it snapped so violently
i swear the whole house shook
like a head on car crash
a lightning bolt
a hurricane knocking down a tree

i didn't think it could be worse than the night on the porch
when you kissed me hello
and your hands smelt like rubber
now there’s the pain of you leaving
and the pain of you forgetting and
i don’t know which is worse

how do i accept i was just another house to you
while you were my home?
i was your temporary tattoo while
you are engraved in my skull

i used to feel like a house without windows in the middle of winter but
now there’s no house at all
and i’m outside your door in the freezing cold and you hold it open for a minute or two then
*slam