We're All Terminal - Kristina Hayes

I’m carrying a pile of salt under my tongue,
collect bruises in my sleep. In the morning
we patiently make breakfast together, 
laugh into our orange juice and later,
driving until the sky turns slate. I know 
that I’m getting even harder to love. 
Your name is every billboard in this city.
You are in the soft tendons of my knees.
I am in a thrift store and everything is us.
The TV spits out nothing but bad news, 
commercials for laser hair removal 
and vacuums. Smoking my first cigarette 
feels a lot like swimming without 
any clothing on. I wanted to text you this, 
but your number is lost somewhere 
in Brooklyn. When I saw you for the first time
after months of nothing, I couldn’t stop
looking at you, so I didn’t look at you at all.
Even when you love the boy you can't 
scrub him off of you. Even when you love 
the boy your heart demands to be a fist.