Where is my home now?

Broken hearts more painful than the shifting bones they belong to

Where is my home now?

Unspoken words burning my inner ears like a radio set to static

I have learned to no longer ask any questions that

I would really rather not know the answer to.

 

Your fingers on my collar bone, your fingers in my hair

Exhale.

“I just can’t love a person like you.”

Inhale? Inhale, inhale, inhale!

You beg to yourself,

But all of the oxygen has left the twin-size bed.

And all you have left to breath in is

The truth.

 

Here today, gone tomorrow they always told me

I always thought you’d be the one to prove them wrong

Your smile was bright but your heart was even brighter

Or so I thought.

Or so I thought.

 

At night, when I’m still awake, 50 shades of the-light-is-off-so-why-can’t-I-sleep

It’s been three months, give or take a few days

And the words you said still haunt my dreams.

Inhale.

Inhale.

Inhale.

“I just can’t love a person like you.”

 

But then, one of these nights, an epiphany occurred

In the darkness of the night

I just can’t love you, either.