slam.

I close my eyes and see jeans.
Denim stretched across the border of my right and left brain, hugging tightly around it instead of around her. I see them tearing from her, I see her undressing her legs for you. I see the neat obsessive compulsion taking over as she quickly, hastily folds them before returning to the bed.
Hair in her face, stroke her cheek, push it back.
Remember these memories and hurt; remember what happened and pain takes over. a few pills to pop and it's gone. Nerves do not send messages to you; they no longer work for you, and neither do I.
Close my eyes, hear sweet child of mine, and sit back. Sit back, relax, solid. No fading. You are the only translucent shadow in my life as of now. And if you had just left, done what you were supposed to, made a clean fucking break , I would be fine, cured of the pain. You run. You run hard, you run fast, quickly, foot after foot, the ground quakes in fear beneath your shoes and feet and body. Out of breath. shake. shatter. stop.
pant.
The oxygen floating in every single particle around us gathers into a more solid formation when you breathe. Your emissions cause them fear, cause them to cower and fall.
You are hurt, as am I.
the words stay in my mouth much like the air that hasn't left yet.
Tapping fingers impatiently upon a phone, to type in or not to. and I choose not to, I run down the road I'm supposed to, and my life is back in order. Just like that. But everything is out of place.
She left you, and you left me, and happily we cannot be.
Of course this is not purely chronological; the order is off, and it must be fixed. reorganize. replace. replace. I am replaced, and THEN you are. so it's all making sense.
The green shirt, the shirtless body after you return home, the pausing to bury your head in your hands


pausing.

and they worry. every friend and acquaintance worries for me. put on duty, put on watch put on babysitting due to a lack of self esteem probably, due to a chemical imbalance, probably.
q tip, change of pants and new shirt on, you are you again, and I don't know what you do now to be honest.
Before it was me there, it was you and it was me.
you worked, you me'd, you slept, rinse, wash, repeat.
but where do you go and who do you know? and what do you do?
is there a purpose.
lost, and found. build up, break down. metacarpus stretch, catabolism start. heart beat. lungs flex. mouth open. breathe in.
the phone does not ring. my hand does not answer the call that did not come
too close for comfort, too far for love, too gone to care.