There was something heavy about the way your name fit in the back of my throat,
Or maybe it was the way it didn’t fit.
I wear October on my forearms like a thick sweater,
That I can not take off until it has finished suffocating me.
I have finished the words that trickle down the sides of your mouth like a rough draft kept hidden in my back pocket
I do not know how I’ve gone this long without seeing the sky.
I sighed my last breath into the crook of your neck until my lungs found you home enough to rest in,
Summer has run through my bloody knuckles like water rushing up a stream,
I told the moon to stop reminding me of you
But it looks like he can not hear me anymore.
I watched the earth move under my feet as I inhaled the ocean until the saltwater swam inside me.
I wrote poetry on the backs of my fists because once my words left my mouth I didn’t know where they would run to.
Your mouth tastes of charcoal and the stars are burning my shoulder blades as I lay on top of your world
If only I had let you go,
Maybe you would have stayed.

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