Literaryspill, UNTITLED 25920 seconds seem like...

25920 seconds seem like yesterday,

not the trivial things,

like what you said

or what I was wearing that day,

just the feelings after,

hot steam running against cold skin

cheek on hard tile

washing away the bitterness of a wintry chill

with soap and shampoo;

its the insignificant things that get stored away,

and when unearthed later on

at the most inconvenient times

make you ache.

like the burning sensation of tap water

on pale skin

the tart, acidic smell of vomit

inhaled after purging yourself

from the spurning of a vapid man

or the exact moment

when you reminisce on the feeling

of warm lips grazing each other,

fingers interlaced;

hearts beating in unison

wasn’t it just yesterday?

that I was suffocating by your hand

my lungs pleading for air

you tightening the noose

wasn’t it just yesterday?

but tell me

wasn’t it just yesterday

that you loved me?