I bury my face in your pillow (the one i never
washed) and scream my loneliness
into something tangible, like tears. The satin cover
is wrapped around my eyes so tightly
i can see nothing but the heavy curtain of
grey behind my shuttered lids.
The darkness pries open my lips,
amplifying the monotony of my
breaths and spreading them all all all
over the creases of our bedsheet,
in all all all directions of the room. As though
breaking the silence would prevent my heart
from breaking. Since something has to break
anyway.
its been two years and four days since
Poisedon took you away
and tonight (like all the other
nights) i need more than just me-
mories
c'est le ton qui fait la musique.
you should've waited for my goodbye
