my hair leaves her clasp,
my arm from her fingertips,
her traces of touch engrave within my skin
gripping to sheds of her left.
memories sneak from my eyes
and roll from my face.
the hardest part,
is grieving over someone who still lives.
I bleed gracefully
cleaning these open wounds,
seas of pure sick wash out my gut,
the hot ash still wedged between my thighs.
chaos of my crumbling confidence.
I feel nauseous of her loss
I curse her name through my lips
distinguishing her absence from my mouth.
her sweet glance
of the universe dancing within her eyes.
only slightly
bulging blind beauty
and heavy happiness
of her lips creasing her face,
framing an outline
of her written smile.
my eyelashes slept peacefully
and awoke from her sweet murmurs.
my feet balance in her arms
as my head thread from her legs.
my giggles flood our house,
my limbs were flaunted around her neck
desperately restless
from her forbidden love.
I'm a good listener,
my fingers interlace between hers
so effortlessly I find her puzzles of lack.
my hands mould and sculpt to fit,
from mine to hers
they feel strange
no longer significant
unfamiliar.
I've been hunted
and like the moon
we need to go through phases
of emptiness to be full again.
What will be missed,
What can be missed.
I forever cherish her moments of desire
yet come to ponder my loss of her.
watch of her smile dissolve
her eyes expand to the darkness
of her aimless steps.
bewildered from a single day
her battered brain, bitters her
her bleakness, saddens me
and her buttery nonsense
badly bewilders my hope.
I try to mimic her old ways,
And isolate from her endlessness.
Draw over my broken bandages
and sew over my blossomed stitches
that spur my painful pleads;
of the slow process
of loosing mummy.
