You’ve been coming home

mint chapstick and
tobacco pieces stuck to your lips from
poorly rolled cigarettes.
Extra bus fare.
Bottom shelf whiskey and
natural laughter
spilling from your breath.
I keep finding

little post-it notes
shoved into your pockets
pasted with someone else’s playlists
Some other guy’s suggestions
on how to lift your spirits
when the depression gnaws your spindles
like a cancer.;
when you’re too tired to
undress yourself.
And I’m still here

following you under the covers
taking keys from your hand,
leaving fresh water on the nightstand.
Gnawing your earlobes
with some panic
whispering at your hair
with some manic
pinning you down with some very
well timed stanzas.




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