15th August

When your heart remembers what your head tries to forget. Nights alone, unless I'm on the phone trying to wake you up. Our bed not shared, its transient. You say that its the algorithm, like April wasn't fact. There is venom in your defence. I always bring up the past. Hindsight or a warning, you still became my better half. I am standing in the shower, but you don't come and join me there. It wasn't the intention but a moment where loneliness and expectation crept in. Waiting, exposed, and undesired as the heat of the water replaces your lack of touch. Your guilt kicks in and suddenly you want answers there and then. Now we both want company, but for you only if there is justification that will offer some remorse. I told you I was just existing because that's truly all this is. Once again, our bed is transient. So I let my heart cry awhile and try to make my head forget. I wish I could find comfort in the algorithm, but all I have is fact.