little poems

cold turkey

my body is deprived of you
i have quit you- my fingers itch to write your name into my phone and press call,
fall off the wagon
the voice that says
he doesn't love you
he will never love you
hisses in my heart every time i think of you
it keeps me sober but drives me mad;
and do you even feel the withdrawal
do your fingers hover over my name
do you miss me?
does he miss me?
because i have to watch videos of you to feel like you're present, like smoking an e cigarette, not quite enough but enough to keep me level
i'm glad of the distance
if i saw you- the real you, not a minute clip
i would grab you where we were
be it a road, a shop, a queue
let the cars beep and drive around us as i held you, inhale your fumes
fall off the wagon