from bed, do you know?

you couldn’t give me a straight answer

i stuck around chain smoking cigarettes, crushing butts into metal ashtrays marking the movement of time

leaving me with a fitful night sleep and stained fingers

wishing i had found another way to slow your goodbyes to a drawn out stutter that i could complete for you…


your greeting with a grimace-frustrated face had you give up on trying to erase the words i inserted to keep you close

i never wanted to watch you disintegrate into a pool of leftover thoughts

waiting for me to grab a mop and wring out your memory into water muddied by wishful questions

that we’ll never move on from

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