femtyechrome

I prefer to leave first. Step into what it is first. Shrug you off whilst I'm still there,   where you lie is slumber. Us, together, still continues as I grow into the next. Outside on the street in the morning's fur,   I exist twice because of you.

This void that remains. It's beginning to thicken, I'm wanting to push against it. I can feel it dribbling down my throat and hardening in my lungs. When i think of him, I feel as though i've forgotten to learn something. this is not nostalgia. this is an unpaid bill. this is those keys you lost for good. this is that time you were uncontrollably drunk. this is that thing you shouldn't have said in professional company. this is that paranoia you wish you didn't have. this is the money you don't have. this is the person you aren't. this is not nostalgia.

He's probably getting ready to go to sleep now. He works now. He's professional now. He has 'time' to think about now. He has worries, that are socially acceptable to worry about. His washing powder hurts her skin. He will buy a new one for her. On his way to work tomorrow.