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You're facing me, but your eyes are no where to be found.
Yes, you are facing me but your face is featureless.
All that's visible is your beard and the lips it protects.
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sludge pours from your gaping mouth.
A dark purple, thick liquid dripping slowly down your chin.
Most of the sludge makes a home in your beard,
just like my fingers used to burrow inside
and gently scratch the skin hiding underneath.
You used to love that.
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sludge is never ending.
Yet, this pool calls out to me,
as if to say "paint in my missing features."
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sludge smells sweet but sticks to my fingers.
I try to paint in your eyes but am stopped,
for I am unable to remember what your eyes look like.
Your mouth begins moving,
but there is no sound;
no words forming at the tip of your
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lips.
Of all details of you,
I remember your lips.
Kissing you was effortless.
Our lips would lock and never depart.
Your mouth always tasted of sugar; sweet, but too sweet.
Months of being tongue tied left me with cavities.
Your lips no longer look inviting when
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sludge continuously flows from them.
Looking closer now,
I can see letters forming at the tip of your tongue.
Too afraid to explore your mouth with my own once again,
I use ******* to gently pick up the letter.
M
Confused, I look again as more letters appear.
O-N-S-T-E-R
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was your favorite pet name for me.
In our most
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moments, I became the girl in your nightmares.
I became a
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I at least was only a
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in your nightmares.
Every waking day you were,
and always will be
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