I lay, all bruised and cracked wide open, 

On the bathroom floor,

Memorise all the tiles

Like reading a book

I never want to end

Tiles you laid down, one by one,

Alongside your father

They still hold your fingers,

The stencil of your palms 

If I trace them long enough, hard enough,

It almost feels like 

I'm holding your hand

But it's 2:30 am,

And I'm drunk on the bathroom floor

And the tiles 

Just feel like tiles

And you haven't called yet

And I have a dreadful feeling 

In the pit of my stomach 

That you never will

  1 weird fact about me you probably didn't know:

1. I gag every time I cry too much.

Maybe it was my body's way of saying

I've had too much of this sadness,

I want it out.

 And I wait, hands laid flat against the bed,

Palms facing God; fingers slowly opening and closing like reciting a prayer 
No one can hear

My curtains are drawn closed so tight; my body drenched in darkness, 
As if a sliver of light could cut right through my paper thin skin if I let it,

You are, soundlessly, sleeping in the living room

Are you deaf to how viciously I ache for you? Does it not howl into the night ?

How I tear myself down every evening, tooth and claw,

And rebuild in the morning, so naturally, like eating breakfast

Like petting a rabid dog; even though I know it will bite ? 

I whisper apologies into my pillow

Like if I say them long enough 

I will dream of your forgiveness,