I learned to stand tall
And firm in my truth
Like the mountains in my mind
To which I fled
Time after time
Seeking solace, solitude,
And silence
The courage to be
Had been there,
Within me,
All along

The day is cyclical
In subconscious routine
I bite my nails
Nails to nubs
And cry
About moments past
Out of reach, translucent
Like silvery ghosts
Frigid, festering, frosting
The blood running thin and contaminated
Through my veins

Lips stained
Recklessly, remorsefully, red
With the wine that impelled me
To allow you there again
Lips stained
Burgundy, begging, beckoning to you
"Come closer,"
They whispered, not I

The day is cyclical
In subconscious routine
I grind my teeth
Teeth to gums
And cry
About moments past
Fleeting, evanescent
Like fireflies at twilight
Flickering, flashing, flitting
Through my mind
I cringe at the thought of
Touching one

Like the cooing of a dove
Your words lulled me
To sleep
Cultivating comfort with each
Soft syllable
I dozed and
Drifted into dreamland
You melted me and
Molded me and
Made me mercilessly malleable
Moved and mesmerized,
I am helpless to your
Hypnotic heart

The inky blackness of the room hugged the outline of my aching body, but hardly tight enough, and my heart was heavy with the weight of missing the safety of your embrace that should have been there, but wasn't.

And I tossed and turned, restless, haunted by the air that traced me in space, buzzing with the energy of your heartbeat that should have been there, but wasn't.

And the hushed night wrapped its hands around my neck and squeezed, leaving little spots of lavender, bruises, shaped like your fingertips that should have been there, but weren't.

And the last words you spoke to me rang in my ears, and I cringed, and I begged, longingly and desperately for the steady rhythm of your sleeping breath that should have been there, but wasn't.