I’m all out of midnight phone calls and wilted rose petals.

I’m all out of throwing out letters out of windows and building cathedrals of sand.

I’m all out of the avalanche of goosebumps your touch caused.


I yearn stillness now.
I yearn indifference.
I yearn to keep my head above the water now.


And so, your eyes are graveyards and I bury all words unsaid.