leg tucked under me, waiting for Ben,
running away from memories that keep chasing me.
Eighteen fucking days,
and he’s still everywhere.
On my skin.
Under it.
Inside me.
In my head.
I can’t escape him.
Color melts over the city at this hour.
A sunset bowing across the horizon?—
gold leafed edges, plum, ruby.
The same color red slashed across his jaw from the EXIT sign that night.
The falling sun paints the room,
turns the walls into a confessional,
turns the chair into a pew,
shattering all delusions
and forcing me to kneel before the truth.
I keep my eyes on the view,
convincing myself that the shake in my fingers is from the cold, and that I’m not falling apart without his mouth on my skin.
Focus: sunset, skyline, 613, Ben,
try to outlast the consequence of him.
Ben's approaching the doorway,
his sock-footed steps
almost muted against the marble,
theclatterof his phone in the metal tray.
He’s buzzing, I feel it,
like he’s pacing without moving,
voltage coursing through him,
every cell bouncing on their toes,
