But then I see you.
And I listen carefully to your delicate speech.
The way you slowly allow letters to form into words
As soon as they reached your lips.
Concentrating on your laugh
How it seems to echo through the air.
And bounces around inside my head.

I listen, afraid to watch.
Terrified that you might notice.
Because the moment I allow myself,
Like a knotted rope, I am instantly tied right back to you.

And every time I look at you,
Talk to you,
Or even think about you
Those knots grow tighter and tighter around my waist,
Around my chest and my throat and soon my entire being.

Even the slightest whisper of your name,
Can cause those knots to constrict me so tightly
It almost convinces me that they are hands.
Calloused and strong.

Ready to squeeze what little life I have left
Out and away from me.
Leaving me no longer able to live without the presence
Or knowledge of you.

Making me a ghost.

A living shadow that depends on your every move.

Hoping that maybe,
When your sunny days have disappeared
You just might begin to notice

I am no longer around.

Please don’t call;
Don’t bother leaving a message either.
I won’t call you back or even listen.
And please don’t text or write.
Because I won’t respond,
And you won’t find me.
Not here;
Not for a while.

I’d like to tell you where I am.
Where it is that I’ve disappeared to.
But how can I describe where I am,
To someone who has never experienced it?

I hesitate to put its beauty into words
Out of fear that my vocabulary will not do it justice.
And God forbid that I taint your image of it.
Or even make it seem less magnificent then it really,
Truly is.

All I will tell you
Is I am drifting.
Drifting back and forth; smoothly and consumed by nostalgia.
I’ve mastered the steady rhythm of the tide;
Memorized how it breathes when it stretches its arms.

I’ve allowed the breeze to take control.
Signed the waver, official in its smudged dark ink
It’s now my captain
And I follow wherever it goes.
Identical in the ways a pirate will follow a route to treasure.

But I’m not looking for gold.
I have no longing for wealth or money.
What I’ve found is better.

Intimacy,
Passion,
Possibly even love.

And every morning its soft voice
Whispers through the sliding glass doors.
In the afternoon I taste its salty personality,
Sprinkled diligently across my lips.
Adoring the way it has permanently stained my skin.
My perfume is a testament to where I’ve been
And who I’ve spent my hours with.

The different shades my skin turns and
the way my hair reflects the vibrant characteristics of the sun
Represent what I’ve been doing
And where you will find me.

I’ve wandered back into an old lifestyle.
My way of living that ended too soon.
I am its lover.
Completely infatuated and devoted to it.

And when we’re separated,
miles and hours apart;
I feel that it just might cease to exist.
Vanish from my memories.
And with it,
Myself as well.

So don’t bother looking for me.
Unfortunately, I will be back
Don’t worry.
Some force will drag me into reality.
But for now,
I’ll be hiding with my love,
Stranded in the past.

And at the same time
I was absolutely, completely, and utterly terrified;
Scared to let go.
To allow any space,
Or any air between our skin.

Because I’d lost you before.
Loosened my grip and
Let you slip, so easily, out of my hands.
Like fine sand.

Gliding gracefully, smoothly past,
Falling through the outline of my fingers.
Just when I thought I had collected all of you,
You were gone.

And I’ll be ******
If I lose you again.

It burns.
It burns as it rushes down my face;
And as it glides across my skin.
My pale, cold skin, that hasn’t seen the sun in months.
I’ve forgotten how it feels to have its warmth kiss my face,
It’s nearly identical in the ways I’ve forgotten you.

Oh, how it burns,
Warm and smooth in a cynically graceful approach.
Steaming with words I never said, never will say,
And still can’t, because it shakes my body so aggressively.

How it really, truly burns.
But don’t worry, it’s not painful.
Not in a knife cutting, sword stabbing, arm breaking kind of way.
Although I won’t deny it.

But rather, in a lustful, regretful, pitiful kind of way.
It’s the knowing that makes it hurt.
Knowing the reason why they fall,
Why they scorch trails of memories down my face.

Knowing the heart-wrenchingly obvious truth as to why they won’t stop.
And knowing that this could all be ended so easily,
Because, my old friend,
It’s you.

You are the reason.

And it burns even more forcefully
When I acknowledge that they fall down the same face,
And in the same place
I used to know your touch.

There is a process so strenuous,
It makes my soul ache;
And it begs me for peace.
It hurts so bad it takes my breath away.
Leaving me speechless and gasping for words.
It crushes my soul so forcefully
It pushes its pain out through my eyes,
Letting it dance down my face.
Perfectly and with unity.
Commanding it to splash onto my paper.
To cover my words; dissolve them into nothing.
It’s a silent cry.
A plea for help.
One that whispers to me,
“Stop.”
“Please, just stop.”
But I never can.
I still can’t.