all mouth. all ruin.

i loved you the way fire loves a house. all mouth. all ruin.

i needed you until you became need. something always reaching. something with teeth.

i was too much. then suddenly not enough. night makes twins of those words.

i held you like i was already leaving. i could feel the space opening its mouth between us.

then nothing happened. which is how it happens.

just days. work. dishes in the sink. my face lit blue beside yours. your body learning not to ask.

we got good at almost. almost touching. almost talking. almost turning back before silence set like bone.

there was no great wound. just the slow mercy of getting used to it. how the heart can make a home out of less and less.

still, i stayed. still, i stood there, hands on a locked door after the knocking ends.

long enough for the hand to forget it could let go.

standing in the ruins of a house that’s still standing, calling the wreckage home.