A penguin, a song, a crick in my neck
I want to be a romantic, a poet, a lover.
I want to say that ever since you left my bed I wake up with cricks in my neck and my lower back always hurts and these sheets get too hot.
But I know it’s not because of you, or the lack of you. I know I shouldn’t sleep on my sides or lie late at night with my neck at a 90 degree angle to see my damn computer screen. I know the sheets have always gotten too hot (I am “miss one degree”).
Just like I know it’s really over because it’s been a week and I feel that thread to Greece tugging on my heart less like a rope bridge and more like a misplaced catheter. It’s always there but never comfortable anymore. And I don’t feel anything back.
I want it to be you though, the part of me that’ll always love you wants it to be you. Any excuse to miss you, be it a penguin, a song, or a crick in my neck.