Loneliness spreads like poison ivy in my veins I'm not sure what I'm doing here when I spend more waking hours dreaming of being somewhere else than I do trying to study the beautiful nuances of your face that used to make me smile in wonder
There's a coldness in you I don't remember and while your touch is still like fire on my skin I wonder if it's love or convenience that drives your insistence
I know you loved me once
What we have now doesn't look like love to my heart
I hang up washing inside out of the reaching fingers of rain that would have us clothesless for a few more days
He won't come near this room can barely step inside without his insides breaking into emotions you can't lock in a box
I can still see her last breaths here if I remember to look backwards through time a nurse of one side of her bed me holding her hand telling her it's going to be okay though she wasn't lucid enough to know I was lying
The only time I can breathe is when I'm somewhere else somewhere else anywhere but here
I find freedom in book stores all the stories make me feel alive though I can never hope to read them all they offer the potential of new worlds I haven't yet considered and old worlds I have yet discovered
If I lived forever I couldn't hope to contain them all in my soul
They are so much more interesting than my story with its demons of weakness ...
We suffer in the silences our hearts and minds elsewhere and I wonder where you've gone as I sit right beside you my mind lost in some other place where your secrets hurt less than the things we aren't saying
I dream of an empty bed your legs a memory in the bed sheets and I remember when we'd lie tangled in each other's limbs unable to get enough of each other's skin
Today you haven't kissed me and my fingers have done nothing more than graze your arm in faux sympathy as you complain...
Everyday was the same until it wasn't the days grew old without us noticing until they weren't there at all
She believed in small miracles no man or god could ever deliver but we stoked that hope like a fire that would never die because without hope there would be no peace between the spaces of sleeping and waking and breathing
There was no better tomorrows despite our hopeless dreams time had run out on the feel good days were we could sit outside and paint blow bubbles into the wind ...