Forget, iv: (threat level)midnight

21 9 11
                                    

I was desperate and my soul had been deprived of basic indulgences.

I was counting the seconds until midnight, until the digits on your analogue clock turned.

I was lost in love, my rationality was smothered by nostalgia and excitement (just like the batter smothers a corndog)

I was savouring your aromas, inhaling your smoke.

my hands could still feel your skin, seconds after they left your body.

I felt joy, I felt happy.
I felt loved, I felt cherished.

OUR love was like a game of Jenga (everything you sacrificed for me made our tower grow higher, but it naturally became more precarious)

the vibrations of your phone were the first sound that I heard that day.

the pictures of us were the first thing I saw that day.

I saw them once and smiled.
I saw them thrice, and I grinned.
I saw them five times, and I fretted.

they were watching me,
my thought police had returned.
now they'd extended their constabulary to accommodate the policing of actions.

and wicker cracked in my head days before gasoline met the stacked twigs.

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