When wakefullness holds me captive,
stirring ceaselessly at 2AM,
I rest on memories of you,
on the spot you once lay,
on my bed.

A light at the end of the tunnel,
bursting out from the dark,
into four days of
midnight playgrounds
rainbow bracelets
highway lanes and passenger seat,
full of music at four A.M.

A little bit of hurt,
never a milligram of harm,
brings this closer
than standing in front of your desk,
idly moving words between us,
ever could have.

Fragments, strung together like your tears,
shock themselves, an ice bath.
I could steal you like a thief in the night,
your shining white knight,
fill you with my lust
**** myself just enough,
that little death of ******,
inside you.

Words no longer have meaning.
I strip them of their false hope,
reaching spaces in between,
letters like notes in a song,
between which, the truth
is told.

You couldn't pry this void from me.
I grasp onto it like a greedy child,
sloppy and heady from
your soury-sweet mother's-milk,
drunk like you never were
from my ***.

Remember me?

I'm the man
who stood by and watched
as your own Mother
your own Father
cut you out of their lives
and your own brother
told your husband he should have succeeded
instead of failing
to **** himself.

Remember me?

I'm the man
who pulled you out of closet
you would hide in
screaming, crying, wanting to
hurt yourself while
your own Mother
your own Father
your own sister
were deaf to your cries.

Remember me?

I'm the man who was there for
half a decade, learning to
care for you
bathe you
give you space
(Just don't lock the door, love.)
laid on your back
when the weight of me
was the only way you could
feel safe.

Remember me?

How quickly,
shamefully,
selfishly,
you forgot
on that day last June,
when you told me,
you were leaving.

I didn't forget you,
or that kiss I knew would be our last.
And I wish I could remember that
last look as you drove away,
but the image in my mind
is blurred,
just as it was on that day,
as the tears bent the light
from the face I loved,
as it drove away,
free of tears.

I'm only here,
waiting for you,
never coming through
my door again,
never looking in,
my eyes again,
never breathing near
my ear again,
never lips on
my flesh.

I'm only here,
waiting for you,
still.

If it were a million years from now,
you'd still be
in my mind
in my heart
on my skin

I thought.
I believed.
You were the one thing
I had faith in,
when I was a universal atheist.

I would have ridden into the dusty East
to fight Crusades in ****** tribute
to you.

All those years with you,
are like a crumbled castle
I walk through at times,
wanting
the walls rebuilt
the gates strong again
the flags no longer
dead on their poles,
tattered and charred.

But this place is a ghost now,
just like your presence,
in my chest.