I tip toe over into

the hemisphere that is your zone

of comfort which is filled with smoke and whispers.

Thinking ahead I brought earphones,

and I let our favorite song

whisper lullabies of false hope and scathing love to me

as I ignore the voices

that are now attacking my mind,

not only yours.

But the second my fingers

brush your arm, I don’t

feel at home anymore.

I feel as if

I’ve met a stranger,

so the feelings of love are

pushed away and

hurt replaces them.

My earphones fall out

of my ears and I fall to the ground as

my cries join the screams of the

whispers who have transformed into

elastic knives, stretching and

slicing away anything

that I had with you.