sea smoke

<sup>there is an ellipse before the
apology,
the cinematic salt rolling
off your eyelashes

you can't say you're sorry now, can you?
revenge isn't as sweet
as it's always been.

--

self-sufficiency will only get you so far
burning bridges instead of building them

and god, i wonder why i can't sleep
when my hands still smell like (our) sex
and i can find fragments of you in every broken thing

--

i try to sleep but i can't stop waking up
my body has betrayed me
plaguing me with dreams of memories
harsh, but long forgotten

and i sit up and count the seconds and i think think think
wondering when i went wrong
or if i did.

i like to think that someone is awake thinking, too
but no one answers when i call.

--

people are jealous of the symphonies i listen
to when you pull me against your chest
but the secret is
the only thing you get out of listening to
someone else's organic metronome
is forgetting about your own.

--

i only have one cigarette left and it's like i'm scared to smoke it
your leaving has left me mistrusting everything
my knowledge of object primacy fades in and out
if it isn't there, it never has been, it never will be. gone, like smoke.

--

i didn't kill you the way i thought i would
i couldn't bury you like i thought i could</sup>