we're broken glass faces
sliding against hard lines
of each other, the sting of
dark deep in our skin. we
are stuck to the past (or is
the past stuck to us?) and
we cannot untangle each
other from the sad cling of
thoughts, that slip through
those gaps between the walls
and those crooked-edged
floorboards. we slide against
each other, mouths warm and
greedy as we lose rhythm
and find it again - our eyes
open and close, because the
burn of the other hurts too
much. those words that we
have left in our throats do
not escape that chasm, and
perhaps that's the best way
for it to happen. we were
too afraid, too fearful of the
tomorrows we would have to
face, so we turned away and
pretended we were fine. we
weren't fine. and now we try
to cling to something we cannot
hold, we slide against each
other, but we both know that
time is watching us from the
walls and floorboards. we're
running out of time. the dawn
slides through the window,
dyes you golden, and i allow
myself to, finally, let go of
regret. and as my fingers slide
against yours one more time,
i know it is the very, very
last.