I search for you like the last penny in a nickel jar; you rattle at the bottom of an endless chink I cannot crack. I feel you flutter faintly in a mock, but I tire from the effort it takes to roll you up and make you mine.
You’ve jaded me from the little joys I knew- Like words. Like the cursive rolling of them round the edges of my tongue, wet, ripe and hungry for their lustful coupling. Their fleshy purple sighs echoed sentences across the post apocalyptic green corridors of my mind.There, in the silence. .. after all had been said, and said and said again, were my words- dancing in a naked ceremonial mating.
And now we sit across the canvas of our minds like tired lovers who let too much time pass.
It’s funny, you died and I can’t seem to let myself live. So I summon silence and let the quiet take over. I tie each day to the other, forgetting where one ends and the other begins. The emptiness covers me softly like a child in womb, and I can sleep again. . . Anyone who said ‘numbness’ was a cliche, never had to lose a you. Well I’ll bargain every cliche I have, for you. To have you. To find you. To feel you. To go back to the traces of me you took with you.
I’m beginning to forget you. And the secret makes me quieter. You’re being doctored deep deep deep into those spaces no one else can find, and I’m afraid you’ll stay there forever; in those armored suits I was trying to pawn off for some happiness.
Your absence leaves me with sentences left unfinished and thoughts abandoned even before they can breathe.
So I leave every thought half felt, and every effort incomplete.