i’m learning
how to breathe again but your perfume still reminds me of home and I hate that
I remember it.
Some days it
gets too cold so I think of that sweater of yours, in my cupboard, that I never
wore. It warms me up a little.
I’ve stopped
watching sunsets, they’re too beautiful and I don’t feel worthy enough to watch
them.
I let them
sink, like my feelings.
My heart
weighs too much, it’s too heavy.
There are
too many words I never said.
I never know
poetry but my heart’s on paper and I pretend it breathes there.
Isn’t that
enough?
I miss your
laughter.
And I miss
how mine fit in perfectly with yours.
I mumble too
much.
I’ve been
talking a lot since you left, yet my hands shiver when I write letters to you.
I love how
beautiful the planes flying above my house are. They make me feel safe.
And then
they leave.
I’ve been
dreaming of leaving on them too,
yet I’m not
sure if that’s how escape works.
if that’s
how it should work.
I woke up a
little too early today. And I shut the curtains tight, the sun shouldn’t rise
without you.
It’s too
cold tonight.
I burn our
photographs to feel warm.
They leave
ashes behind that look an awful lot like your footsteps out the door.
I light up
three cigarettes at once and watch them burn out.
This isn’t a
metaphor.
It really
isn’t.
But it seems
an awful lot like our love wasted on incomplete sunsets and empty poetry.
I walk two
kilometres to feel warm.
I start
running.
I’m chasing
my breath.
It leads me
back to you.
I knock at
an empty house.
The concrete
under my feet feels a lot like the wood which knows it’s about to be burnt in
the furnace.
I step
backwards.
I keep
going.
And I don’t
stop.
Until I’m in
the middle of a busy two way street with cars honking on either side and I
can’t move.
I hear the
yelling, the hurry and the panic outside.
But all I really hear is the first time I heard you laugh like there’s no tomorrow.
I know the
ticking of the clocks doesn’t stop but I do.
I don’t know
which direction to go in, the cars move past me and I feel the same old sour
taste again, when I think of you.
I walk away.
I’m learning
how to breathe again, yet every breath takes me back to you.
_i’m not
sure if my heart thinks it’s worthy enough to beat.
.
.
.
19/12/17
