I told you I’d stop writing about you…. I lied.

I’ve been gripping at the sheets of this reality.

Ripping at the seems through this insanity.

This heart of mine….

String tied loosely around my rib cage.

I think Ive misplaced the caution tape.

The vomit in the parking lot that night wasn’t enough, so I drove seven hundred miles to get the taste of you out of my mouth.

Whisper the last of my love for you out the window.

Cast you out into the desert wind.

I’ve laid my bones to rest here.

180 days since you and I am still restless.

I still bend.

Reaching for the rattler in the nightstand to numb out the heavy dark.

It is not that I am alone,

but what counts as being together when even when I am with her,

or her,

or him,

I can’t seem to shake this feeling of loneliness creeping up my backbone.

Making it’s bed between my shoulder blades.

It’s morning coffee shaking my brain before I’ve even had my own.

The in between of wanting to be wanted and please do not love me.

Making me want to tear my skin from my flesh.

I want to be something no one has ever touched.


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