sometimes it's never over.
Listen. Can you heart it? The hum of his mouth far away.
How distance sounds like static, feels like the thickest silence.
Now the alarm wakes you like a siren, a warning
that this is another day, another stretch of dull hours
of your body begging your hands to belong to someone else.
So you dress like a priestess, like a queen who needs no king.
Your knees bow your forehead to the floor. These are prayers,
this is forgiveness, this is a sadness that needs no feeding.
And then one day you manage to shake the ghost from your own body.
Wake with your insides free of tangles, from a sleep that feels
like recovery, from a dream that was not about him.
But this is not lightness. There is no relief. Only the weight of
realisation, of how much you do not want to forget.