why do I have this feeling?
that all you’ll leave behind
is a rolled up $5 bill
laying on my wooden floor,
next to empty drug bags.
I know I should say goodbye
but your pale eyelids
and the mountains of your shoulders
have me stuck in bed
next to you, stomach acid burning my throat,
rib cage exposed, back soft and unprepared,
committed to the danger we created.
Girl, in progress. 