Your words pop into the pages I read in hopes of escaping from you. Your ache rattles the foundations I’m slowly learning to build without your bones. I’m cleaning my mess with your memories and that just stains more of you and not less. I bleed hungry for more of you only to find myself bartered for nothing with no name. My time line starts and ends with being and not being yours. I can’t stop myself from snorting your t-shirt like a junkie looking for the high she can’t find anywhere else. I smell of dust and ashes in the morning after a long night of dreaming, fighting and then saying goodbye. It is a cycle I secretly love; to binge on you only to wake up alone with reality confounded and I ask again did he really leave?
Can I survive with what is left ?
Will he save me?
I’m only weak for having been tired of loss grappled with love. I know of no love that isn’t painful and beautiful. I refrain from all that’s not you and you are threading on my scars that echo my past and rewrite my future in blood, lust and loss.
I vow in your name to know of no love that doesn’t lead me to you.
And the cycle continues…