tbh, I’m a mess

brb, I’m
too busy removing your stray hairs
from my hoodie, praying this
gold strand is the last. what’s real
sick is I can still remember your scent
though there is no way I can actually detect it.

I got that disease that pulls the days out like taffy
and you are just speckled in all my thoughts.
lovesick maybe, but I thought I was immune,
having survived that one nasty
flux. stop, stop
you keep popping up in indelicate ways when
I’m just trying to sleep. I see a silhouette, a gasp
of white through the sheets, hair splayed on pillows,
a coiled up comforter at the foot of–
ahh, your bed! I wish I were dead! hahah,

I’d gone so long without the hit of the affliction,
I forgot that this happens to people outside of fiction.

2 thoughts on “tbh, I’m a mess

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s