It’s one year later & I still feel you on my shoulders,
breathing vulnerability onto my tender neck.
Two bodies wrapped in desire,
like silver paper, on Christmas.
We breathe each other & call it air.
You say survival, I say
suffocation. I’m falling, sinking into your skin,
melting into a pool of water.
I see you in my reflection,
smiling softly, smoothly,
your too-big lips covering your teeth
that are yellowing even when you stare
at me with a toothbrush hanging from your mouth.
I hate your laugh,
electric, rhythmic, wheezing.
I close my eyes when you touch me
to pretend it’s really you.
I lie in my bed alone,
one year later & I still feel you on my shoulders.