I’m dying
Missing you,
The ghost at my fingertips.
Whispering to me
Like a shadow of a scent.
I’m dying missing you,
Someone who was never there,
Never meant to be.
My mind imagines the strangest things sometimes.
Like a person who was there and gone,
Like a shadow,
A scent,
Never to be mine.

This chair is oh so familiar,
Propping my arm up,
The same as it always does.

The nurse arrives, needle in hand,
And removes a unit of love,
Filling that same plastic bag.

I know where my love goes.
I see it arrive, every time.
That nurse, needle in hand,
Sends my love along your veins,
To your heart.

The transfusion never takes.
At least, not from you.
Your cold body never warms.

My love will never work
Because your heart is dead.
And mine cannot pump for two.

I used to be everything.
All I needed,
Right there,
Only for me

Now I am nothing.
My heart a void,
Drained empty,
Only for me.

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There is a silence here.
One that beats within me,
A second heart,
With none of the love.

My throat aches,
Voiceless cries going unheard.
The quiet is consuming,
Yet there is nothing here.

How can there be nothing?
When all that I’ve wanted
Could not be closer?

I know.
Because I do not want you
Not anymore.
Your silence, your quiet,
Is consuming.
It has eaten me
And left nothing behind.

My heart beats inside me
Does it truly?
Yes, I think so
But my chest doesn’t rise
And my lungs don’t breathe.

Here, crack my ribs,
Reach your hand inside,
Trace your fingertips
Along the veins of my heart.
Does it beat?
For you, it does.