Scratch your dirty fingernails up my side
Sun spewing its flames on our greasy frames
We thought we’d left them behind us
Those skeleton hills
Avoiding the voids we just couldn’t fill.
I can hear your motor whirring in my floorboards
Always quick to gun it, how you’ve always done it.
The curtains darken as you shrink over my hill
In your weakening wake
My heart slouches in a viscous suspension of ache.
Nose against the screen, I sniff the eerie peace of dawn
As I adjust my sight to the cerulean light
And the scattered, lonely chirps,
It’s too early to feel like I’ve much to say
But I feel a fresh layer of skin, and a new hill today.