before florence

i unlace myself from him

then the grief of having been touched

by someone that's not you

in places otherwise still branded by us

it creeps thick, like ivy

a heavy haunting

——

tangled and tethered

veins and vines

crawling up carotid arteries

search… ing

for light

for breath

——

up stone walls

and rickety old staircases

through

forgotten

closets

reaching

an attic —

where a closed window’s shutters

cast of a painful sliver of light

on an old box labeled 'us'

still up there

from before