Even the most loyal of individuals

would eventually tire

of wandering up and down cold walls

in the middle of the night

wearing nothing but a ripped dressing gown

For years, I lived in that remote farmhouse with him

in and out, like a delivery driver

tracking the movements, intensity and volume

of my own breath and eyesight

with an app

I swear, at times when he wasn’t there

the inside of my body felt alien and out of time

leaving me with an urge to turn my skin inside out

as the mouldy blinds bumped against each other

in the pristinely clean wind

With each coming winter

it felt like our calendar doubled in page count

but it’s hard for me not to tear up

when I think of a struggle that – despite its intensity – was a shared one

like when a juvenile pop singer goes through the same type of shit

that ripped your heart to pieces at sixteen