1/30 for 2011

Late post into the NaPoWriMo. Short one tonight. Got home late.

Every morning I wake up with a headache of you.
Showers become sifting explorations
Going under each and every memory
for a fault
a crack
a fissure
anything to indicate you would pick him
over me

but there are none. every stone is polished.
bright and deceiving.
all that is left are these bag of shiny pebbles you left me with
to remember by.
how i yearn to dump them all out.
instead, i keep my chest heavy.