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I remember when there was a time and place for us, time and space for us and everything that ever was; was us. Crying for hours on end and feeling like you’d punched me in the gut with knuckles as rough as razorblades could cut. The dirt on my knees as I tried to drown my body in the soil, because all I wanted was for you to love me, and if I didn’t have that I wanted the earth to swallow me up whole instead. Make a gaping hollow grave for me and bury me in decades of used up history, of love letters sent and destroyed and burnt and pills swallowed, lovers used and bruises earnt.