UNTITLED
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?
© Nathalie M. Viorato
