i ache for the want of your skin
Sometimes I wonder if our love is seasonal. I’ve known your kindness in winter, your rejection in spring and summer, and your cruelty in autumn.
Maybe we cannot survive the warmth.
I don’t know if I can love you only three months of the year.
I am finally doing what you wanted.
I am writing about him instead of to him.
I still want.
The inches between us
Feel like miles
And even when the sway of the bus
Presses us together
You are still untouchable
I don’t often remember my dreams –
Except that I was falling,
Or I was running.
But You gave me nightmares
They hadn’t seen you for days
When you should have been at work
And for some reason,
They picked me to go to your apartment
And I found you swinging
(I found you like I wanted to be all the time)
And I didn’t look up
Just saw your stiff hand
And whispered your name,
Sure it was a sick joke;
I looked up,
And there was your beautiful
But purple and bulging and gone
And in my dreams,
the world without You
and woke up
I had a friend who had a nightmare where he went to his best friend’s funeral and found me in the casket and then he wasn’t my friend anymore.
I knew it was bad – to make him leave like that.
I never knew how bad until you left and I started having his nightmare where I would go to my best friend’s funeral and find you in the casket and then we weren’t anymore.
You hurt me. We can’t talk about it, because you know it happened. It is a blood bruise on your otherwise beauty, a vulnerability you cannot let exist. A feather’s touch near it, and you recoil in pain, or lash out in fear – and I am your victim twice over.
You hurt me.