first light.
@nckeon
—— the grief / is stuck inside me, a poisoned apple / that won’t go up or down.
she remembers in fragments: the white of his shirt. soft murmurs. the beat of his heart beneath her ear, a steady rhythm that anchors & lulls. fragments; pieces together that form a picture one-fifth out of reach.
the belly of the moon turns as dawn approaches. she leaves him in bed, in warmth, limbs whittled with lingering moonlight. his shirt hangs on her frame and she takes comfort in his scent, as if it could chase away the ghosts nestling beneath her ribs. but they are stubborn creatures, raging with an altered love, biting at the tail end of her thoughts.
last night was drowning the past in the bottom of a bottle - this morning is no different chasing numbness ( brother, i replaced your hand in mine with a gun. what would you think of me now? ). she’s fissured with blue & muted bitterness. half the glass is already gone when she hears his footsteps. she’s stuck in grief’s trapdoor, down a path she doesn’t want him to follow, doesn’t want to leave breadcrumb trails to. but it’s too late - bottle & half empty glass signalling to him like neon signs.
“did i wake you?” she turns to face him, heavy gaze noting the tiredness in his features ( she shouldn’t have called him last night ), combing a hand through his mussed hair gently. it’s light & devastation, swallowing shadows to reveal fractures. & when dawn comes, it tears through echoes of mourning, her voice leaking tenderness. “it’s still early, love. go back to bed.”
