Week 54

Hard days,
Hard times.
Strong migraines,
Hard lines
Etched into my forehead
While yours stay baby smooth
Your eyes stay baby blue
While mine darken
And rot.

I look at you and wonder
How you could have ever been mine
Remember when you held my head
In your hands?
I do.
I remember every painstakingly simple moment
That was what I was built for.
Now I can't love you anymore.
You're not even you, anymore.

But there you stand,
Tall and broad.
And every instinct in me
Wants to bury myself in you,
On you.

But I stand far away.
You are not the warmth of a
Freshly washed and dried blanket,
You are the ice cold frost
numbing my toes,
Putting me to sleep forever.