Wednesday, 8 July 2015


I'm sure it's not so bad after a while, sleeping on your own. Once the pillows lose your scent and the warm dent in the mattress misplaces your shillouette. I cannot even force the will to sleep in my own bed, it just reminds me of you. I close my eyes, can almost feel skin on skin. Your gentle embrace.

Desperate for the pillows to whisper sweet nothings upon my temples, "sluggy i love you." Replacing the butterly kisses for zebra stripes, face mapped out by heartbreak.

I starved myself for 4 days, i just wanted to look lovely for you. I spent hours attempting a masterpiece to set your eyes upon. Primed, framed, signed. I cried for what seemed years as my effort was neglected. Watercolour taxi seats and streetlights.

I wanted to inhale your hands, your arms, your torso, your breath. But now its just myself and the thought of you, and how it won't be so bad sleeping on your own.

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