it's a haunting, to be frank.
you sit on the carpet of a hotel room
& take pictures of the morning light
draped across the walls like fingers
through the blinds. you eat it up,
this. the ache spells out like a lover's name
— prettiest in another's voice. the easiest pill to swallow
being the one from her hand. you can see yourself
take flight straight into the s u n .
these are the only words you speak
all week, a ghost of a tongue.
