I couldn’t

I didn’t make my bed this morning
because I couldn’t. Because your shape
was on my sheets, my pillows smelled
like aftershave and I wasnt sure when
I’ll behold you again.

I didn’t make my bed this morning
so that I would be able to sleep
next to you tonight,
even though I’m not
next to you at all.

Art from @gabrielepennacchioli

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The summer in winter

His touch was a
transitory evocation
of summer days.
You could almost smell
the promise of heat and
passion. As the winter
coldness kisses my face,
I think of his breath like
the summer breeze
whipping salt unto my skin.

To this day, 14 months
and 2,756 miles away,
no one makes me
ache like you.


My body revolts against itself just so it could miss you. Tag that person you’re missing right now. #officiallymissingyou

#bemymuse 33, as requested by @pessimist_romantic

Bad habits

They say it takes 21 days
to break a bad habit, yet
here I am, on day 202, my
mind and my heart are still
convinced that I need you.
202 days since I told you to
stay away from me, and I’ve
regretted it every single day.
202 accounts of whiplash,
of missing you like oxygen.
202 days of wishing I’ve never
had you. Then I wouldn’t be
reminded of you every time
I touch someone else.

A living memory

I have made a sport out of confusing
the chronology of discovering you,
forgiving you, anticipating you,
and forgetting you. I have to accept
the fact that it’s over, and it’s time to
stop dragging your shadow like a
carcass around my shoulders,
thinking you’re still with me,
when you’re just a living memory,
still attached, umbilical.