your breath

the days pass so fast nowadays

the hours bleed into each other like ink on wet paper

without realising, the morning has faded into the afternoon

running almost in parallel,

I feel my memories of you losing their tactile qualities... I only hold the image of you now, not your smell or your touch.

I am a creature of the present, I'm afraid. I dwell in the realm of immediate thought despite my best efforts.

time heals all wounds, but I cannot help but resent the fact that it scars. how it protrudes so obviously from my skin and runs across my chest. I fear I cannot ignore it.

slowly and surely, your breath will just be two words that sit next to each other on this page

the warmth of it dissipating in the cold morning air

the frost sobers me up

written january 2026