literature

maybe that's what love is

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Published: Dec 30, 2013

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Literature Text

_{there are empty sheets
sprawled like a linen corpse
who's been given an autopsy--
and it's sprawled across the floor,
arms and legs bent and askew across
the hardwood floor.

i'm thinking of you as the spiderwebs
in the living room are glistening with
fresh dew from the remaining days of
christmas.
but no one inhabits them anymore, they've
been left alone and deserted like you left me
(once.)
but;
the flies are gasping and buzzing with ecstasy,
they have been spared.

he's got me
missing his dark eyes and the feel of his unshaven
face against my cheek and the rattling of my bones
when he speaks.

tonight instead i'll be lain across the bed like those
empty sheets you forgot to wash before
you left--
i'll be tossing and turning, rethinking and my brain will
be pulsing and i'll be uttering under my warm breath that
i'm just a girl who trembles under the chilly
night sky and has the ambition of a
newborn baby,
do i really deserve to be
loved?

and i still can't stop
loving you.

i can't sleep, either.

maybe that's what love is;
no sleep and an empty bed with wrinkled, dirty
bedsheets.}