I could feel my mouth twist with your name inside of it. I could hear the twang of guilt surrounding each letter. No sound ever reverberated outside of closed lips but I felt them wrack my bones.
Your face hides in every shadow and ever dark place. When I close my eyes all I see is you and now I know what it’s like to never want to sleep again.
You’re the smoke in my lungs whenever I breathe. My words are stained black with the memory of you and no matter how much I scrub, I purge, I rinse, it never clears.
The life of me is tied with strings and I curse the day I ever handed them over. I no longer move on my own accord because every move I make has you behind it. Every smile I fake, every laugh, every twitch of my hand or bounce of my leg.
I am this porcelain thing that’s filled with everything you have ever spoken. I am filled to the brim with thoughts of you.
It’s a static cling that I can’t pull off. I’m left as a blurred image of you, and I can’t come back into focus. When the camera shakes, all of the pictures come out blurry.
I regret handing myself over when you were made of tremors.