and as I moan, regarding perfect little deaths
his voice makes me cringe
and I’m transported back into that late november night where you just held me.

to realize on a cellular level my body was rejecting you

because I couldn’t do it for myself.

grief used to sound like it was a few sad days
like you wandered on the road, but knew where you were going

it took but a moment

Or it sounded that way.

But grief felt like nothing. or everything. It felt like a bubble encased the world, and continued on without you. There was no road, no wandering, no movement.

maybe just static.

and nothing else

but that’s not even true


because it was absolutely everything
a cacophony at the highest degree

but just with silence
and an empty seat

I used to be able to taste
your wonder

Between holding my bikini, cold beer, and hyper fixated on dives

I used to be able to taste your wonder
on the tip of my tongue

drunk on your smiles and perfected lies

I used to taste your wonder

but then
you stopped drinking
and I guess so did I

it’s that static sound
you know the one

when everything is quiet
but not quite

and the walls seem the same
but I can’t recall

whether it’s 2:36
or 11:41

right when I lost it all

I can’t seem to keep my socks on
you know
they move
wiggle down
and I have to
pick them up
why is it that’s tolerable for socks—
but for humans it’s not?

he said he wanted me in the worst way, and he really couldn't be more right
because he was willing to take an extra five seconds to make it seem like he cared
while I was craving connection
and we walked through some ways
to discover—— this way was the worst