I don't know; I suppose I'm still working on this one. It's not a poem, or prose really, but I didn't know what to call it. Perhaps an overly long quo..
I was wearing violet mascara on the day you left.a violet river flooded my face,and discovered home within my left clavicle.The mascara stained everyt..
He was asthmatic and selfish.He developed a habitof taking my breath awayin order to sleep morecomfortably.I nearly suffocated every nightto watch him..