last night

i thought of you in technicolour: bright eyes,

slow dance, all neon. took a stroll on the riverbank

& prayed for release like i used to. rust took its

time to settle but the old can be scraped off, just like

that. found a stone bench & paused to let midnight

rattle my bones—to let the cold silence inject some grit

into these soft muscles. blamed myself for not picking up the phone,

realised i never wanted to anyway. followed the streetlights home:

traced every crack in the pavements, thought about my mom

for the first time in months. i guess hurt shows up

wherever it wants to. still, this misery holds steadfast.

listened as the dark grew around & the neon flickered

just the slightest—recovery leaves a bitter taste

so i let the ache wash it down, just like that.