Running On

 

My friends think you’re a bitch
and
though I’ve uttered angry woe
I can’t help but defend
your intentions
like you are still my own

If I had to name one thing that I miss
my answer would be
one long run-on sentence:

Layingonyourstomachinthebathtub
andyou
singtome
Ialmostcryfromlove
butstaystillandlisten
frozeninamoment
IknewwasEndless

Whenyoulaughed
fornoreason
inthenewday’slight
Fuckingeachotherwithvigor
forsharingtheseasons
fromgreentowhite

Thesongyousang
everymorninguponwake
Wekiss,sharedreams,
adoreyouasmy
diamondring
asmyflower
ripeforSpring

Then the timeline decays to now
in my reminiscence
and my sentence has found its pause –

a pang
my legs go numb

What I’ve lost
is the gray of my thumb

The flowers can’t find their green
and my songs can’t find their sing
and my body is grieving
every night our atoms are universes apart
and nobody could fathom my heart
unweaving

when they call you a bitch
or say they’re not surprised that we split

I don’t know if they’re right
but I know
I can’t scratch this itch
and I’m terrified
you’re the only one who can reach it

I can’t teach it,
the un-rightness
of our loveseparated
but the night is your absence
and my chest it tightens
and all I have to explain it
is a poem of run-on sentences
for my love no longer of likeness

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