“I don’t want
I don’t want to come home and see
all the places where we could be tangled in,
all the empty
and neat pillows.
I don’t want
to smell the clean air
that has settled into the threads of
my bed, where the smell of you used to linger and stain
all of my clothes, married to the smell of me.
I don’t want to miss you
I want to stop missing you”—shattering splinters #6 (via consequentlylove)