Slowly stepping on rose-petal piles, hands trembling, heart beating faster.
My lips are blue. The vibrating words in my mouth are begging to be released.
 
When I was a little girl I read books, because they were my Tardises and I could go anywhere in time and space.
And now, I need escape again…
 
The stars here are decaying and my cobwebbed dreams are fading away. Nothing soothes the ache, the sharp-edged ghosts, the unrequited love.
 
I try to see through the fog. I try to keep breathing. But grief overwhelms and night prevails.
 
I keep going without a map. No safety net. Eyes wide open: a patchwork of goodbyes and eclipsed skies.
It’s sad. Like the ashes of a love promise.
 
Time’s running out. Kiss me. Pass me the liquor. No, I’m fine. (Don’t worry I know how to stitch myself up.)
 
There’s a hurricane where home should be. There’s dust where you should be. Dust or ashes or burnt tomorrows.
And I wish you could understand. I wish you didn’t just leave.
I wish I knew how to let go.