Jherine

half formed.

This Mortal House I’ll Ruin

I don’t know what do do, she says.

I can’t tell you how to be, I say.

She sighs.

I sigh, but say no more.

I cannot be without him, she says.

You can, I say.

She nods, eyes glazed, but says no more.

I haven’t heard from you in a while, I say.

I’m not sleeping, without him, she says.

I frown, but say no more.

I feel like I can’t breathe without him, she says.

Just try. One breath at a time, I say.

She weeps and words fail us both.

You look different, I say.

She tries on a smile but it doesn’t fit.

I’m tired, she says.

I say nothing. I hear only her tears as she slips from the phone.

I will say “get over him. Just move.”

I will say “seriously? Again?”

I will say “you have to love yourself more than this.”

Perhaps I will try to scream.

Perhaps I will try guilt.

Perhaps I will only listen. 

I’m just so. . .scared. To be without him, she says.

She smiles, her teeth rotten. Skin gone. 

She is shadow and bone and nothing more.

Her eyes scan the place for him, only settling when he is sighted.

She vibrates with negative peace and a rift forms between us.

I am ashamed that I am grateful for the chasm, 

Afraid that she might be catching.

I don’t know what to do, she says. 

I can’t tell you how to be, I say.

She sighs.

I sigh, but say no more.