Missing you comes in
waves;
Tonight I am
drowning.

A voice -
sweet blades that cut deep
creates wounds you want to keep

Sure of her words
she does not stutter
she does not stutter
I repeat
she does not stutter

She whispers sweet nothings into your ear

Buildings,
Ships,
Spines

All
fall in her direction

You fall in her direction

Seconds turn to minutes,
minutes turn to hours,
hours turn to days,
days turn to weeks,
weeks turn to weakness
and I give in.

© Matthew Harlovic