Strange how quickly things can change
And just how easily roles can be reversed

Sometimes,
When humming isn’t enough
I write it down;
Those melodic words that play on repeat.
I put them in color or faded pencil.
Because it’s a more permanent way
Of expressing how I feel
Through the words of another.

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.

I walked outside yesterday.
I greeted a short lived friend;
And as I gave him permission to entangle himself around my skin,
The smell of him rekindled ancient days.
A universe with a different attitude and a unique mindset.
I let my lips curl and dance at the thought of it.
And for the first time in a while,
For a split second;
I felt like I was walking through a dream.
A fairy tale where I was happiest; vibrant.
It was truly a bittersweet experience.  
Because the memories I was swept back to,
The hours that dwindled into minutes,
Times where I laughed and daydreamed about nothing,
Were the days that solely,
And only,
Revolved around you.

Man created time because he feels dependent on consistency
Lost without normality and predictability
The idea of not knowing and unprecedented randomness scares him

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.

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.

As soon as I got in my car it was the first thing on my mind.
And when I pulled into my driveway and cut the engine
it was my only thought.

I nearly ran up the front steps and through the front door,
hating how raw and hot I felt.
I bolted straight to the shower.
No stops, no waiting.
I stripped all my clothes off and stepped into the blistering water.

All I wanted to do was burn the lingering presence of you off my skin,
Get your aftertaste out of my mouth,
And wash the bittersweet feeling of you down the drain.

Never,
in my wildest dreams,
Had I imagined that one day
I would try so hard to remove your touch from my skin.

But I am.
And I did.

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.

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.

It doesn’t feel right to be happy.
To feel the corners of your lips tug at your face;
Stretching towards your eyes.
Almost as if to touch them in an empathic kind of way.
Wishing to bring some shred of happiness and light back into your perception.
It feels almost illegal; and morally, physically wrong.

And yet, it’s not healthy to dwell.
To shove your mind into this timeline of past events.
Making your soul convulse at every thought,
Every moment,
And every reminder of everything you did wrong.
Everything you should have done,
But didn’t.
It’s not healthy; so you continue to do it.

Strained between this emotionless middle ground.
Numbingly living your days.
Completely lifeless.
Sleep walking through time, and days, and hours, and minutes.
Barely alive, yet fully living.

Constantly in a tug-o-war with yourself.
Having moments of happiness; pure bliss.
But, always quickly followed with thoughts
Of grief, and sadness, and despair.

Trapped in this bipolar state of living,
Like a fish trapped in a bowl.
Cut off from the outside world,
Imprisoned by your own being.
Dying to leave; to escape.
But every time you fool yourself into trying,
You find yourself crashing into those glass walls of fear.
Bigger, taller, stronger, and more powerful than you.
You’re desire to move forward.
And you’re will to live.
More forceful than you could ever wish yourself to be.

And you’re not even sure you’re living at all.
Because you don’t want to do anything.
You don’t want to eat anything.
You don’t want to say anything.
You don’t want to be anything.

Only the past.

A sacred place where your memories roam wild and free,
And happiness is at your fingertips.
Absorbed in the day dream of normality.
The innocent happiness of experiences.

And then,
As consistent as your shadow on a blistering day;

You remember.

****** back into a reality you lost your grip on.
Subconsciously forced to wear a smile,
Because it’s the simplest, easiest, and most fool proof way to lie.
To convince nobody, and yet everybody,
That everything is okay.
But more importantly,
That you are okay.

Living off of the thoughts of your past.
Hoping that someday, maybe; maybe,
You won’t need them anymore.

And so, until then, you remain a lifeless cut out of who you used to be.
Who you wish to be.
And who you will never, ever, regret.

Writing letters to no one.
Writing letters to friends.
Writing letters to lover.
Who left in the end.

Oh, to be desired.
Yet, we all have our give and take.