It’s been two years since I’ve let your name escape from my bones,
I’ve allowed your dirty memory to swallow the only parts of me you left behind, your mouth tasted of blood and dandelions, you had every constellation sitting beneath your tongue and every time we kissed I felt that much closer to the moon.
My mother asked me why I don’t drink tea anymore,
I told her that it tastes like you and I’ve spent the past two years trying to forget the way your voice buried itself into my skin.
I started singing again,
If you were here I would’ve told you how the last time I took the train I sketched a family sitting across from me, how my skin felt so raw against me, how the past few weeks I’ve felt as if my own name has been too heavy to carry around.
Darling I’ve been trying so hard to be strong, but it seems that every time I fall asleep I feel you against the snow white skin that’s stretched against my crooked spine, I feel you in all the words that spill from my stupid mouth, their sounds all smeared against the side of my face. I’ve searched for you behind every bone in my body, I feel you everywhere inside me,
Why do I feel so empty?