knapsack jumping jacks.

July 20, 2010 § 2 Comments

all that is left is a montage of you walking away from me.

over and over and over i look at the note on my wall. it says “it’s over”. i toss and turn.

i am without rest, and restless.

i am alone in this god forsaken bed, in this boat, in the water.

there is the seat where you sat, but now the sun sits with me. if only the sound of the gulls, and the lapping of the sea, and the taste of the salt on my lips were enough.

there is a hole that is not where it should be.

and an ache, that echoes.

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