A Letter

Every night I lie awake in the hope that your
Face will leave the back of my mind. Every
Night, your soft grin stains my dreams, like
A spilled cup of tea covering my face, hot
Enough to melt a hole right through my
Skull without me even realising, unconsciously
Drowning in whiskey and cider and bodily
Fluids and having you steal the air from my
Nose right under my lungs, pushed out and
Inhaled back in right before you hatched your
Scheme to thieve from me what was never
Mine. I cradled myself in a cot woven of tears
And slowly edged off a cliff into a state of sleep,
Down a river and into the sea of your skin. Liquor
And caffeine fucked with my head for weeks; why
Didn’t you call? Why didn’t you text? Why are you
Still stuck in my fucking head and why won’t you
Leave me alone when all you’ve done for the last
Two months is leave me alone?
I’m rotting.
From the outside in; the sun settles under my
Cancerous skin and softens the blows your stories
Tell. Now, it’s not tea that burns me, spilled on my lap
Between fits of crying and hysterically screaming,
But more alcohol from endless bottles shattered
Against my skin, not smooth enough for yours
Anymore. It’s not even words that hurt me, since
You no longer speak to me through tongue or
Touch or finger; you’ve broken me so fragile I feel
Burned just looking at the flame of your hair,
It singes me and shocks me into life every time I
See it but I never fucking do. On the rare occasion
I’m graced with its presence it’s rushed, hesitant
And improvised. Fluent, but improvised. For fuck’s
Sake I’m sorry for whatever I wasn’t good enough
For, I’m sorry that whenever I dry my hair now I
Smell cigarette smoke and I’m sorry that whenever
I touch another person’s thigh it never feels quite
As smooth or comfortable as yours, sitting in the
Palm of my hand. I’m sorry that no set of fingers
Will ever feel as soft as yours lost in mine and I’m
So fucking sorry that all I can think about these
Days is the past.
I’m looking for closure, but all I see are memories.
I hope you’re doing okay, wherever you are.
Yours, most sincerely,
The boy you left behind.