—

the anatomy
of moving on
is like a suitcase
of broken glasses
and heavy femurs.

carrying it while
you try and whistle
away a melody
to navigate strangers
eyes elsewhere.

that ‘i am fine’ shtick
you put yourself to,
while the fumes of
your waisted tears and sighs
seep over your shirt,
from your open chest.

the heart beating twice when sentences
don’t mix cohesively with your smiles.
she must think you’re being a bitch.

a cold heartless succubus.

but then again,
you carry her bones
in your suitcase
whilst you drink your
angst and sorrows with
a grain of salt.

—

© lilahlethogica