Letting go of you is a process
I can’t afford to name.
Having lived in sips of time
and slates of planning the post-pain days,
I now cannot listen to the rain fall
without choking back panic, choking on myself
floating below the dark amnesia of breathing.
You survived through all the sizes of my
obsession — relics of wretched bathrooms
layered with notes from strangers.
I will not become the right hand meat
mentioned briefly between the times I live
and those where I exist as
your night table.
Transforming from human to the expressionless parchment you can trace
through — her face
blooming out at you through the dark lines of mine.
Our room exists only because it allows me to peer over
your shoulder—in time to see a girls’ eye
forming from beneath my own.
Only because I am accepting that you will cover me for her—I guide your tooth-bitten hand
across my face.
Pushing your pencil into my paper.
You existed through her existence
and she lived by living beside me
Every pocket of her face
hides small fragments of my heart
— pulling down.
I become fond of this girl taking, claiming, her space in you.
Exactly, as with a ruler
this unclean creature
stains my world
by leaving a hairpin on
our breakfast island.
\ shatter / shatter \ shatter \