The last night is always ceremonious

Although we never see it

Our bodies were much sleeker

Before we were allergic to one another

I could've sworn we were thinner too

We were matching

Now I am your bedside table

And I haven't bothered to fix the planks under my bed since you left in the morning

I am held together by a thin layer of jam and cream

And I am afraid that

if I see you tonight

I will crumble

Or worse

Melt in your mouth

Tonight I heard the metallic warbling

I thought I'd forgotten what it felt like

It waltzed towards me

Menacing, yet elegant

And stabbed me in the chest.

Something cold trickled down my arm

But when I turned on the lights there was no stain in the carpet.

I have a primal urge

To feel damp hair pressed against my collarbone

And your thin body

Trembling, yet mighty

Organic

Pale against the night sky

Gaunt against the shower curtain

Thrashing against my hipbone

I predict letters in

jacket pockets

gone unnoticed

and tossed carelessly into the washing machine.

The soggy paper particles

will cling to our underwear

and remind us of

the stains

revealed, then quickly covered again

our eyes will dart away

and linger on

the blandest piece of home decor we can find.

I predict numbers on

cigarette papers

crumpled and

left to go mouldy in the bottom of my handbag.

The sight will disgust me

and remind me of

the time when

our faces crumpled and moistened in the same way

then I will smoke the paper

and the ink will blacken my lungs

just as they would have eventually been blackened, anyway

Piss Piss Pissss

Kiss

You not thereafter

Cold Damp Air

Skin

Thinner yet faster

Hhh Hhh Hhhh

My

Semi colon blocking

Terra Bite Dolls

Won't

Miss you a-knocking

Chitter Chatter Shit

Cunt

That's my baby

Frisky Frisky Biscuit

But

Drowning Maybe

We grew inside one another like sweet-smelling mold that we probably should have cleaned up a while ago. 

You liked deleting me as much as you loved me. So you did it over and over again.

Once, I remember you said you felt "obsolete" towards me. You knew exactly how relevant your every aspect was to the way I crumbled in the mirror.

Your name still echoes through the corridors I've walked down in the dreams I don't even remember

But I will never apologize for the arm you may have broken. 

It does not need to be said.

It builds up in the air between us

while we lie there unmoving;

it is thick and garish

custard with ants in it

ants barely alive

yet still in continuous and intricate motion.

It trickles down my neck a little

while my ear is tightly fastened to the phone;

and when I move it so forcefully

3 1/2 cups of brown rice fall on the carpet.

It does not need to be said.

The words we say are so often putrid 

yet, the light always shines brightest

through the bathroom window.