It’s one year later & I still feel you on my shoulders,

breathing vulnerability onto my tender neck.

Two bodies wrapped in desire,

like silver paper, on Christmas.

We breathe each other & call it air.

You say survival, I say

suffocation. I’m falling, sinking into your skin,

melting into a pool of water.

I see you in my reflection,

smiling softly, smoothly,

your too-big lips covering your teeth

that are yellowing even when you stare

at me with a toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

I hate your laugh,

electric, rhythmic, wheezing.

I close my eyes when you touch me

to pretend it’s really you.

I lie in my bed alone,

one year later & I still feel you on my shoulders.