inanimate suspension

Tell me you hate me
that you don’t want my tears
knocking at your door
with the same words
they came with
all those years ago

I’m not shattered with the pieces
we blew into the universe
with a shot gun to our heads

I’ve stopped making love to the cracks
in the pavement
and calling it love

I don’t want you with the blown-glass
insanity of youth
lined with insecurities
and a save me-save me complex

We learned we were not gods
as we spilled our insides
on the wet grass of midnights
and tried to divine our futures
in death

Under the weight of you apathy
I wanted hate to tear us apart
and set free the demons
we’ve nurtured in our ribcages

I wanted absolution
and rebirth from the ashes
of our private apocalypse

Now
In your silence I find
I want the voice you abandoned
I want the pain of your bones
crashing into mine
I want the shattered glass windows
and seven years bad luck
you promised with every almost kiss
as your breath skittered across  my skin
in baited suspension

I want you to tear the empathy
from my nerve endings
and make art from my agony

I want you to stay
I want you to go away

In this silence
I want you to choose
the heart’s impossible path

Because I can’t undo
the reasons
I broke us into pieces
and called it something beautiful

So call me one last time
and tell me time will leave me
with nothing to miss
and I’ll make agony
from your art

© Indie Adams 2015