in the spaces betweenthe mattress springs shrieked with every breath.More Like This
every few hours your footfalls echoed off the ceilings and i knew
to play dead. the sheets creased in all the right places,
arranged like the lining of a casket.
under the silence my steady heartbeats guided you away,
still. i asked
if you walked any further would i not be
invisible to you?
then softly, but not unkindly,
there are times i wish i could play the violin;
create sadness on my own and think it beautiful. i want to
paint and learn to define
the hollows of your clavicles in softened values.
what could this wearied lull in my ribcage be, if not years
spent listening for the hushes of your voice?
there are things you may never understand, i know this.
with you, loving someone
is also the same as losing them.
(i've heard it said that you can't miss what was never yours,
but i have and i do and i will.)