Still
I walked into my bedroom
after a nine hour shift
and caught a whiff of heat
and the feeling of him.
It’s been eight years:
I can still taste the taste
of a taste I used to like
the taste of him but now
it just tastes like sick.
Since you said I was too much:
I lost my breath at exactly
the same moment I was choking
on the air left from all the
words you chose not to say.
Being everything meant too many things at once:
I think of you now and every
time I forget how to love myself
and you’re the only one
who knew how often that was.
It happened sort of suddenly and also sort of slow:
I only travel now because
surely you can’t be everywhere
I turn I feel my heart beat and
break and then stop.
Like death I thought he’d have come for me by now:
I think some days he can’t come
soon enough I think some days
he never will I think some days
I might stop waiting.
I won’t.
I can’t.
I don’t.
