Shoulders

I miss your shoulders
your floral dress
the radio static you play when you’re upset
Am I just a picture
in your head
growing fonder the longer we’ve been dead
You
You
wash me
down the sink
I miss your breathing on my neck-
the apologies I had no choice but to accept
When flowers grow from my chest
pick them from the ground for the vase upon your desk
You
You
wash me
down the sink
Why do you want them inside you
They don’t know the first thing about you
I wake up with a new bruise
every day I still know you