I sit here
and stare blankly
as the empty space
nestled between
the sculpted border of this window
swallows me,
and I wonder if any word
will articulate the brevity
of your absence.
I feel free again,
but I will never feel
trust, rushing into the corners
of my mouth.
No, you
were the stove, and I
was just a child
trying to get closer
to the idea of
heat.
There is a deafening hum outside,
I think it is a helicopter
but inside I always wonder
if it is the messiah, coming back
to tell me I was wrong.
Well, I always am.
Author notes
Juxtaposed thoughts.
I don't fucking care what you think anymore
Comments
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"articulate the brevity
of your absence."
I don't think 'brevity' has ever had a better meaning.
For me, it's got a ... "It's not worldly significant that you're not here, but it is to me" vibe. Diggeth it.
"trying to get closer
to the idea of
heat."
CLEVER.
;
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Beautifully done. I'm slackin' off. :\
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Well get on it! And thank you.
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