A weeks worth of hunger is what I am.
A night less of sleep is how I look.
~!~
The way the sound brakes at your lips and never makes it to my ears.
The way I transform the whte specks in the air to forms that resemble you
And me
And the way I feel your lips on mine in my sleep
is the only way that I know your there
even if you aren't
It's hard to think about this week being the same as the last.
The salty emotions warm and then cool on the hills of my face
and splatter onto my book, making pools for ants to drown in
And I would drown too... If I were as small as I feel sometimes.
I miss you.
xoxo