i took his words, scrunched them up, made them mine
like a love-operated vending service heart
i put them and wrapped them in al foil left over from an empty lunch
                   (things get blurred and repeated in all the creases over time)
  i'm so much thinner now that you've gone and i crackle like white noise, but i -
- i have words still.

i know they're the same as the last,
                                                    i checked.

my fingers grazed by the barbed wire i forgot i grew there
i pulled your letters out,
              yeah i would put them in my mind instead
              (but it might not be safer there)
                           and read them aloud trying to feel you in the air i breathed

it tasted like that first kiss when i wasn't sure what to do but didn't want you to feel there was something wrong

i pushed them back in the slot-machine, and took the no change that came out,
every day i try to reach you
recreate the feeling of you
  i was trying to find you, in myself, i got a bit cross-eyed.
             there was a scuffle and i thought you'd have seen the fight
  on my face, can you tell just by looking at who has lost


nothing i can do but not want you to feel there was something wrong,
                                                                                                     last time you checked.