my chest feels like it’s being pressed on
it’s so hard to breathe when you’re not
the absence of you
teach me how to live
when you’re not here to turn me on
and keep me breathing
the “next time” feels so far away.
what do i do with my hands?
how can i enjoy the smell of anything else
when i’ve worn your clothes?
smelled your perfume?
take a breath
remember the good words
hope it works
try to sleep
but my bed still feels empty.
and the ukulele on my wall
reminds me of the of the strumming pattern
you taught me.
down, down, down, up, down, up, down.
and it plays in my head
as i fail at the game of sleep.
it’s all your fault.