December is the coldest month. I am starting to see why.
When you left, you took everything, and you were everything, and everything you left behind smelled like you. It is so dark.
I ran away from home.
The city smoke chokes my lungs. I no longer like what I’ve become.
Who knew you could still feel like drowning even when you were out of the water?
We sampled memories from your collarbone. I was trying to figure myself out. I was trying to love the moon.
We are told to hate cliches. Watching the sunrise was cliche, and so was meeting a mysterious stranger. He kissed me in my bedroom. He held my arms to stop the trembling. He turned me into a cliche.
It is not so dark anymore.
I walked out the door smiling to myself.
My tongue has learned to forget you. I speak in his language instead. (I found someone else)