So much of you disappears in my mind. I don't know how it ever got this far, and I wonder as I choke on the wind. It's bringing the desert in.
Your picture hangs like a holy rosary over my bed. If you were here now, would you still regret it? That sickly sweet stench of over-ripened peaches, and the way your mouth formed a perfect little o.
O, my love.
I like to think you were comforted by the fact that I gave it up to you; got the hell outta dodge. Really, I gave more than I ever got, because I let you stay. Took the problem with me to the desert and let it scatter there.
And it occurs to me now that maybe I did you a disservice, and maybe you never even knew me at all.