Made up of him.

The air is made up
of nitrogen and oxygen and argon
But then it wasn’t
The air is made up
of stars and thunder and a deep deep sea
She is drowning
The room is made up
of people and talking and laughter
But then silent
The room is made up of him.

The day is made up
of coffee and emails and meetings
She hadn’t noticed
The day is made up
of places that she’s never been
The night is made up
of dreaming
Because the night has always been him.

The words are made up
of grammar and sentence construction
They can’t be
Now words don’t mean anything
The air and the room and the day and the night
And her heart is made up of him.

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“Jacob’s Ladder: the start of the Pennine Way.”

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