tuckova

I wake to the memory of the smell of you so real I can't believe you're not there, or rather here, where I am. Here with me. Your scent not the sole thing that comes to me and wakes me from dreams. How your skin looked in the light from a storm, how it felt when you would lace your fingers in my hair. I tell my memories to heel, to heal, to do as I bid and for the most part I have been shiny. After all the reason you are not here is because you are there, the place where I left. I have fought already enough to know that there are lines you can toe and lines you can only walk away from, faster or slower and faster is always faster. My head in another lap, my hair brushed behind my ear again, my eyes close against what's coming, the pounding in my throat, and a voice above me says it has feelings but they're never for me, no more kisses for me, no more tongue, no more lips, gone. No need to play the vamp, repetition is boring for everyone. Another wedge between my heart and my mind and even while the welting pain rises I am packing the room, planning to leave no footprints. And as soon as I find my shoes, I'm gone; it's what I said then and that's all you need to know.