he seeps in like a migraine.
the fingernails of his memory digging into my
temples. to the mirror, skin vanilla-white, i say his
name and choke on the ashes. his existence is
a splinter i can’t get out so i’ve learnt to grow
around. this crack is raw; no preservatives
two people that refuse to be in love together is like trying to running away while standing back to back in a room full of mirrors