My trauma exhales on my breath. I am always, always with myself.
I’ve wondered about asking you to stay. I’ve wondered about how hard it is to leave.
How hard it is to step outside and feel the sunshine. How heavy your heart feels for all the things you desire.
I never met someone this beautiful. Someone all cape and masked crusader but so… unaware.
When I kissed you and my tongue brushed against yours…
You never realized I was leaving poetry in your mouth and how my words would stick to your lungs like smoke.
Now my sorrow comes with your shallow breathing… the tightness in your chest you feel when you think of me leaving.
I always knew I’d be stuck with me.
I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me now too.
Featured on Drunk Monkeys: http://www.drunkmonkeys.us/2017-posts/2019/2/4/poetry-asshole-sarah-frances-moran