months after you became a memory
you’re the 4:22 a.m. tossing and turning
realization that
oh
i won’t wake up to you in three hours and eight minutes
and the clumps of mascara stuck in my eyelashes
smear into my pillow as i lay there
f***
you’re like some sort of recurring disease
a cancer of emotion
like a relapse is at any moment possible
sending me reeling
back to a shivering, crumpled
shell of girl
using her hair as curtains
and her bleeding, bitten fingernails
as food for thought
that smile in that picture
that one i didn’t want to see but did
popping up on my news feed
like slashing open a bruise
where your jaw cuts lines i never used to see
damn
guess its been a while
but you look okay,
happy even.
and maybe i am too
maybe you’re that painless scar
ugly
reminding me of more beautiful days,
of flawless skin,
of softer jawlines.
but its those nights of
damp pillows
crumpled pictures
sweaty palms
tangled sheets
wide open eyes.
those nights where
no.
don’t be ok,
be f***ed up.
that take me back
to the short forever that i loved you