The scariest moment
Is realizing that I've forgotten
I've forgotten what it was like
To have you here.
And this new world
Where you aren't has become
A world I've become accustomed to.
My new norm,
And that is terrifying

You tell me how I write offends you.
That my use of memory,
Insults you.
It's weird for you to write of past loves,
As you are surrounded by new love.
I'm sorry my words,
My ability to relate to someone else,
Maybe help them with their struggles,
Outweighs that I may offend,
Another heart attached to mine.
So my words are silenced.
In fear of your offense.

My mind is empty of
Words.
And I am not sure if it is
Because I have nothing to say.
Or if I simply have so much to say
My thoughts are congealed like
Coagulated blood at a razor wound.
Irreversible.

Some goodbyes are like butterflies,
So soft if you hadn't been watching,
You'd never have known they'd gone by.
Other goodbyes are as loud as fog horns.
Going off inside the confines of your head.

Some goodbyes are like yo-yos.
They come back a few more times,
Before they're truly gone.

Often goodbyes are as painful
As an electrocution in a downpour.
But sometimes they're as freeing
As the wind caressing your skin,
From the open windows.

Some goodbyes are heaven sent.
Others are hell bound.

But one thing they all have in common,
At the end of every goodbye,
It takes a small piece of you as a memory.

The effort to keep it..
Together.
Somedays is to much.
When I feel like the world,
Will crush me,
Beneath it's weight.
And I become an insignificant,
Ant beneath it's boot.

When I become,
Became, always have been,
A nobody,
A nothing.
The urge to fight,
To survive.
Dwindles to an itch,
That's easily ignored.

When my existence,
Isn't felt by anyone.
Not required,
Ignored.
The minimal fight I've got
Turns into a slow
Melancholy descent into,
Good-bye.

My skin,
Like stained glass windows.
Nearly translucent ,
With colorful artwork.
Imperfections in the glass,
Hidden behind colorful staining.
It's harder to see the major imperfections,
With pretty artwork upon the walls.

In the darkness I heard this keening.
A sounds so devastating.
As if they were dying from the inside out.
As if the world had swallowed them whole.
Devouring them.

And it took me a minute,
To realize.
That sound was coming from me.
I was the one dying.
But utterly and unwaveringly  alive.