Muted Darkness

Molecules of my universe Lay scattered… So this is what it’s like… Ink on paper. Immaculate, straight prints. I imagined the hands, the fingertips that held the pen. The skin where those tips traced eons ago still burn with a memory. My handwriting sucked. Yours were perfect You loved me anyway… I folded the paper right where the creases used to sit and tucked it in a pocket with a sigh. Tomorrow it’ll go with the laundry and I’d be ravaging the apartment for a piece of post it. My brain, intimately wired to your voice, is now muddled, yet tirelessly tunes the air for frequencies, for that familiar tone of my name. A sound only you have perfected. Sometimes I repeat the echo in my head, paranoid that I might forget. Stains on the carpet- the one we picked out together- darkened into an ugly reminder. If I’d known you’d be leaving I would’ve taken the blame. I spilled the coffee. It was ridiculous of course, but you were obsessively clean and I was a walking chaos. Still I should have persisted, should have pursued. Now, coffee will never be the same. And I’m addicted to caffeine. Perfect. I hate it when someone wears your scent. It doesn’t help to remember it when I fall asleep alone in bed. I should remember to catch a cold from one of the patients. Maybe try cancer too. Lunch is bland today, same shit we used to take together for lack of choices. But they always tasted better off your lips. Pieces of you are molecules of something I used to revolve in. Now, everyday is like filling in fading footprints, Memories painfully tangible. Like broken bones splayed on a silver tray. Like skin sewn together with jagged edges. Flawed, hideously scarred, but somehow whole. 

Circa 2011

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