I mistake the sun for your kiss in the morning.
It whispers “hello” through the curtains, and brushes the hair away from my face just like you used to do.
Rays of warmth tickle the small of my back like your breath after you climax,
and I can once again remember things I beg to forget.
I see you naked, splayed across my sheets and I can smell last night in the nook of your neck.
My pillow misses you, and when the sun goes down it tells me stories of your face.
The way you always smirk before you smile, and a once upon a time in your eyes.
Your memory paralyzes me and I can’t get out of bed.
Instead I lay there and melt in that same spot on your chest and under your arm.
As you feed me beautiful lies I forget to spit out and save for later.
Still, I savor the moment. Because I know it won’t last long – it never does.
And if I miss you any more than I do today,
I may never want to see you again for fear of how much I’d miss you after that.
So I wrap myself in the embrace of your shadows, and pretend.
That for one second.
You really love me.
Then a cloud passes. The sky laughs at me. The horizon turns grey.
And I can no longer find the silver lining in my love for you.
Do not stroke my cheek to wake me up.
Do not send angels to make sure I’m ok.
And do not leave your scent on the shirt I wear to hug you good-bye.
Leave as you came, selfish and hollow, with no remorse.
Hide in the folds of my blankets, and fade away at dusk.
Please disappear before sunrise, because my heart can’t take it anymore.
And I do not want to remember you when I wake up.