you sat on my bed pressing your thumbs in the corners of your eyes
working the muscle in your jaw
a breath of goodbye working its way up out of your stomach.
I touched your face in one last attempt
to excite something loving
and you turned from the touch
my palms fell to your legs.
face away and heavy swollen already
your tongue delivered hesitant blows
and the worst pain when comfort has moved away
oh what comfort comes when it's chosen to leave?
hindsight some hindrance to living
the moments I could have spent in fleeting seconds longer
knowing the back of your hand with my thumbs
the freckles there now I'm forced to staring inexplicably forbidden.
the moments I could have spent in fleeting seconds longer
feeling safe and warm and alive
your body curled around mine, falling in love, falling asleep.

unhealthy.

ink impressed upon thin ruled paper.
the grain and imperfections visible. brittle.
the weight of your lefthanded lettering trailing off, breaking,
creases, crumpled, folded,
as an intervention for this small keepsake closure
found tucked beneath my pillow.
I'd known. in the way I felt the air change in the city
you had come to exist in my fortress away.
I'd come home searching, tuned to whatever echoing I'd known your hands impressed.
oh, I've always known you too well.
scent enveloped in a hug at the bottom of a train station escalator.
leaving little pieces of you like catalysts all around my world.
oh, I've always known you too well.
but not in the slightest why
you'd sneak a note, closed with a heart
beneath the pillow of the girl that just now finally stopped loving you.