I take to collecting strangely shaped leaves, laminate them, turn them into maps. I wonder if the trees ever get sad from losing all of themselves in the Autumn. I wonder if they know what it is to be new again. I dye my hair until it is the colour of bruises. I wash my grey clothes until they they turn white. My knuckles hurt from punching walls when I can’t sleep. I can’t drink tea it reminds me of dog eared afternoons that look too much like what I wanted but couldn’t hold onto. I can’t look at men’s cologne without shaking.The back of my throat feels like it is made of teeth and sharp edges. I become straight lines and fury. There are some pieces of music I can’t listen to. The night is a hand to my throat. The mug that says ‘I’m awake what more do you want?’ is hidden in the back of the bread bin. I can’t bear to look at it. Sometimes I touch the places where I know only your hands have been. The tallest shelf on the bookcase. The top of the fridge. I curl my fingers around here. I think about ghosts. I wonder if you can turn someone into one from missing them so much. Stand on boxes looking for you. I hide your clothes. Leave lights on in rooms, leave the door open at night, sleep naked. I’m awake what more do you want? I miss you, I miss you, I look for you everywhere.