I watched you walk out the door, the clicking of the lock behind you sounding a lot like the word “goodbye” dripping from your lips. It felt like a punch in the mouth and tasted a lot like betrayal, but somehow an apology wasn’t worth the postage.
I collect spare change from the couches of yesterday and people I haven’t met yet, going without food and dreams for days because I can live off of the way you light up my bones and breathe life into my absent smile, but your time will always be too rich for my blood.
I woke with ice behind my eyes and dust beneath my tongue and pebbles in my bones. The bitterness of the morning seeped into my mouth and agonizingly dragged itself down my efflorescing throat. I reached over to borrow some oxygen from you, but found only sharpened icicles and cobwebs long since abandoned.