I swim against

There are days that pass, they come in waves of weeks and months, and I don’t even think of you.

But when I do, I remember those bitter moments; they stain like wine on a wedding dress.

You crawl in through sound waves of the songs that we shared, burying yourself in the deepest parts of me.

You smell of sweat and apologies; you offer them up like a Sunday’s communion.

I do not drink, I do not eat.

I swim against the waves of the days in between the months and weeks that crash into me.

I refuse to think of you.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.