12
‘I woke up after I dreamt of you coming apart in my hands’ the air is stale, moss and mould creep across the covers of your bed an empty melody is clinging to the inside of your mouth where we're lying side by side the hollow walls avoid their eyes, and the freshly fallen snow is afraid to interrupt my feet are bleeding from the shattered glass on your floor we sit in our own skins we sit alone the uncanny echo of our breaths ashamed of their intrusion there's nothing left to say.
--Anonymous
