Fist fights with the constellations

There was a fist fight with the constellations and I was the heavy hitter but I walked out with two black eyes and a broken wrist. I entered that smokeless hospital with a fire burning in my throat and smoke bellowing out of my pores. I was asked to sit but I chose to stand and when told to run I took my time. I took your time. I took his time and some of hers. I saw the doctor and I sang him my song but he had no time for my silly songs or elegant rhymes. He was a serious man. A man of serious. He told me I had died already but was able to bring me back. I told him he had no idea. I told him I had died four times since I entered this room and fell in love twice. I told him my lungs are full of engines and my veins had all but been drained. He prescribed me worldly medicine but I told him I don’t need this mess. I have a prescription given to me by a girl with soft hands and strong blood. he laughed. i cried. I left that hospital with gloves in my pocket and my hand in my hair. My car was rusty. My car hasn’t worked for six years but it gets me where I need to go. to those dusty parking lots. to those swinging bridges and around the corner. I was worried that your door would be open. I hate when your door is open. I want to knock. I want to wait. I want to anticipate the jiggle of that knob and then tune my lungs to the key of your door bell. I was wrong and oh how I was so right. Your door was cracked. your door ajar and you on the bed where you have been for the past 23 years. Your pillows worn down and your sheets untucked. I slid into the harmony of your blankets and made shadows with my hands. i sang to you but you were deaf. I tasted you but you were tasteless. You were an empty vessel in which I poured so much. You were a vessel with a hole in your corner. So I left the harmony and I broke out into a dance for one last time. I knew what had to be done. I knew my car would only make it as far as wall street but you lived on Elk Wood. but i would walk. and i would ware down these new shoes. i’d sell my shoes to be in your arms. you knew this and yet you never asked me to sell my shoes. you loved my shoes and when we met you asked them to tell you a tale. but we all know shoes can’t talk. just the laces. the laces that wrapped around your ankles and brought you into my veins. veins. I entered your house and i tore down a wall. I ran my hands in your hair and i tasted the tasteful. *you listened with your lips and you spoke with your ears. you were my knight in shining armor. the pea to my pod and you made everything taste like a holiday. i told you my secrets and i told you my past. I even mentioned my future. you included yourself in my arms and you ate ice cream while i painted you a portrait of someone i once knew. and then burned it to make one of someone i just met. we found your old bed and slept in it. legs stretched over the side. a blanket for one. and a pillow for two. i whispered good morning as soon as you fell asleep. you whispered i love you when i was waking up. and that is how this story begins.