I find you in my bed,
tangled up in sweaty sheets
where nightmares dripped your name.
Your memory hangs above my head,
breaking through my plaster sky
raining dust on my tired bones.
A cloud of smoke strangles every gasping breath from within me.
I am filthy,
A coating on my skin,
Dirt you've left behind.
Powdered wreckage
Sticking to your greasy touch.
Hand prints cover my body in places you should not have been.
I am awake.
Knotted in my bed sheets.
You're 300 miles away
but you're here.
You are still here.
I feel you in everything I do.
I see you everywhere I go.
Your face, a mask on everyone I pass,
Their shadow, an embodiment of you.
The wind, your breath on the back of my neck.
Whispering things I cannot forget,
Binding me tightly with lies,
Chaining my wrists captive to your sin.
The cold metal cuffs etch angry wounds into my skin,
Breaking flesh to heal something that cannot be seen.
