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You forgot about me in New York City

Somewhere in between the Midtown streets,
the Shoreham on 55th,
the chill of the night,
and the piles of garbage bags,
you had walked out on us
I think by the time you had your
hands in her hair,
I was just getting home from work,
wishing I was with you

It was always impossible to sleep alone
as if it was so heavy and throwing
like a tilt a whirl when you go it solo
as if my spine wouldn't align if my arms
weren't the bridge that
connected our breathing

I kept the lamp on until 5am
I stared at the bathroom mirror
at a face I knew would look different the
next time I woke up
I kept the lamp on

By then she was kissing the dip
in your throat where
 your dead mother's necklace sits
and you were sinking into a bed that was not your own

For ten months I have been dating and
sleeping around
trying to make the gap between
you and everyone else very small
and whenever my breaking heart exudes another
 hole,
I plug someone's finger into it,
just to feel the air stop,
so I can stop,
and try again