Sticky

Your words are sticky, dripping with gooey sugar crystals. They coat my throat, block my airways and choke my wind pipes. I never get to eat sugar, it’s bad for my teeth you say. But sometimes you force it to me and it’s artificially saccharine. Like Splenda. I know it’s not good for me but

The move

I cried myself to sleep last night beside him because I’m moving on…  without you.  The end of a chapter that tore my heart in half and left me out to bleed.