and this is what it feels like
to be unloved.

his touch
is the only thing
ever known
to be able to
calm this storm
buried deep
inside me

there’s
something
comforting
about
the
vacancy
in
­my
heart

night slept when she spoke,
creeping  back into its ceaseless
void in reverence or awe.
day paused enviously
at her brightness.
the winds fervently whipped
as she moved, and caressed
her in a motherly wrap.
she viewed this beauty
in nature as it viewed it in her.
taking aim at sunset,
she set herself
to become the beauty
she beheld.

the truth chained itself and,
grimacing, he followed.
each star he eyed blew past,
one by one, and perched
themselves within him.
he picked, prodded, pleaded,
sleep smudging the night's corpse,
and optimism left him.

bit by bit, he read her heart
and lost it in translation.
her energy was effervescent,
and warm. inconsistent.
--
her energy was eclectic-- fierce,
and her words: silken, undisturbed
--
he lost himself in her songs,
the playlists of past hurts, wants, haves-
and happiness. rhapsodic
--
pain is a telegraph,
a tactile sensation that sounds off,
telling stories of past mistakes.