Speak The Truth

After you were gone it was like I had fallen onto the streets of a foreign country
confused beyond comprehension and no one could understand me.
'You'll get over him. In time the feelings will dim.'
But I know I won't. I can't. I refuse to lie.

Sometimes I panic, It's like I'm dead but shaking because I don't realize
I'm not breathing, until the charcoal-static is infiltrating my eyes
and I know I'm falling to the rough pavement.

I won't feel the scrapes on my knees or my bruised bones until morning.

And I've gone this way too many times, but I still insist on never breaking routine
because it reminds me of you...and because I sometimes see you there.
You may stare at the bleak expressions on my face but you never seem to notice
the watercolor stains on my cheeks in the shape of dissolving teardrops.

I often hear the rhythms we composed for our song, the one that consisted
of only the beats because we were the notes ourselves,
and because neither of us could come up with a consistent melody.
And I feel sick, because I know you'll use it with the next girl.
She'll be able to sing to you in the key I could never reach.

Looking down, in the swirling, colored water, I smell licorice and pepper, you.
And I drink my tea hot, so it scalds my throat and I can't taste the bitter aftereffects
of leaving you behind me.

The acid you left on my skin burned deep enough to interrupt my heart,
I don't feel the same anymore. I see things speed by me, hardly realize I've met another,
and barely notice the pain of trying to love someone else.
You left a mark on me, that sank right through and controls the way I act.

I spoke the truth,
for the first time,
in a long time.