I only allow myself to feel the sting of heartache
in the silent, dusty corners of
the early morning hours.
You are the pea under countless blankets
that I still cannot ignore. Instead,
I lay fixated
on the tiny sphere which bruises my sides
with every toss and turn.
You’ve never left my bed.
Hours so small I’m the only one awake
to feel their pain, the attention of mine you don’t deserve
only granted from the solitude of night.
How I could never let you know that my ignorance is fake,
turning my eyes from you takes a giant’s will
and a mute’s silent vow.
I woke up Thursday morning to the construction next door
sounding like malevolent gunshots,
my unconscious believing I had been mortally hit.
I woke with your name on my breath,
clutching my chest and waiting for you
to save me. You weren’t there.
You wouldn’t have been,
you never were.