Heart in my hand, My stomach clogs my throat.
Head’s not resting between my shoulders.
It has gone far away, shaking its gray matter
As it stares
At the sorry state that I am in.
And all because I stayed in front
Of the door you closed on my face.
Now, instead of your soft lips,
My cheek rests on wood.
Grain mixes with wet salt.
I will my feet to walk away
But it is jelly on your paved doorstep.
What a night.