Dear Lover

You came and went, as if to further implicate that time was bending, swollen like a dream. Traces of you still linger in desk drawers. Fleeting scents tangled in threads, tugging back moments and blurring memories, drunken on my tears. Your exit dusted the silence, hushing the garden to stillness, soil soaking, waiting for the sun to kiss it to life. My thoughts slip to the orchard, young lovers kissing between the pomegranate and fig trees, branches breaking under the weight of fruit.


 I love eating the apples in my house because your fingers have touched them and whisper to my lips to be found. Kisses living vicariously through blushed skin and sweet flesh. 

Damn dem bones.

I started crying in the bathroom. Guests were supposed to eat first, and had I slipped off to relax my face, stiff from smiling and gritting teeth. Instead I leaned my forehead against the wall, shaking with anger and pain, eyes hot and tears stinging. The pain was so intense I could barely walk; all I want is wind, running wild with me. Save face, say grace, and get the fuck home. 

Every pump of my bike petals pushed me to bite my lip harder, fighting through the fog of sadness that stole my vision. Now I was crying with the spite of an agitated "fuck you". This can't be my body.

Everyone tells me to slow down. If I slow down any more I'm going to suffocate. 

And then I lost it. Finally home and collapsed on the couch, I sobbed like a wounded animal. 

I don't know what to do anymore except cry. 

I feel like something is trying to break my spirit, and I can't walk away. 

Today my eyes were tainted with bitterness, leaking dirty rotten pain. And still I'm sitting, sobbing in vain. But I don't know what else to do. Everything else is just a distraction.

I can't begin to explain.

In my memories

Your voice.

Soft, fleshy.

Far and close.

We are wanderers.

Searching.

Wreaking havoc chasing dreams.