On my palm
There’s warm blood
Of a freshly broken heart
Draining with promises
I wipe my hand against my thigh
I have a hole too
In my stomach
In the shape of you
But again, my lab results are
just fine
All vital signs are stable
Call in the next patient
You have to move on, they say
Guess it’s the only phrase they know
As if closeness has anything to do with presence
Because, you are here
In every call that’s not from you
On the sheet on the other side
of the bed
Love is stupid
You are either staying or missing
And the funniest thing is
If there’s anything funny
That I miss the most
Our silences
You combing
Seemingly pointless seconds
While you’re looking for socks
So listen, ok, it’s enough
Come back to me
To hold me
And, I don’t want to go home
Without you

If you're too tired to go out tonight, just think how you'll feel at seventy two!



This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.