Someone Else

He used to hold her tightly

and close to his chest.

She would listen to his heartbeat

and he, her slow breaths.

Lying down next to each other,

cold feet entangled,

she rested her head on his shoulder

breathing into the nape of his neck.

He would move his finger

in slow, gentle spirals on her skin

and they would stay like this for hours,

talking mindlessly until four a.m.

Every now and then,

she would drift off to sleep

and he would look down at her,

at her sangria stained lips

and connect-the-dot freckles

and hoped to stay there,

encompassed in her essence forever.

They don’t talk anymore,

he has found someone else to

hold not as tightly and

not too close to his chest.

He disregards her slow breaths.

they sit still

with only the sound of silence

and then he talks to her,

but it is not mindless nor interesting

and he looks down at her,

her lips are dull

and there are no freckles to be seen.

He has found someone else

whom he doesn’t love as much.