I am the abyss.
That great gaping whole in the sky.
In the Earth. When you peer into me,
the dark threatens to swallow you whole.
A cold, calculating, Nietzschean monster.
I am the perfect predator, walking amongst you.
Aggressive mimicry, I dance, and I laugh, and I cry.
Counterfeiting emotions so well, that sometimes
I even convince myself I am but a sheep among the sheep.

Your words taste
as sweet as candy
and I catch myself
cutting them off.
My lips pressed against yours
in anticipation. How could
anything be as sweet as your
smile, your voice, your eyes?

I'm drumming my fingers
on the outside of the car.
Keep your hands busy, Charlie.
Don't let them wander across
the space between your seat and hers.

You've got this smile
poised on your lips
like a mousetrap.
Tense with hesitation
and a million neurons
firing thoughts through your head
that I'll never get to know.

Light up that cigarette, Charlie.
Keep those hands busy.
Let your eyes wander.

Words that you cling to
just like the way I want
to cling to you. My hand
pressed in your hand
as you squeeze
unwanted comfort
from my fingers like
an IV. My thoughts
and feelings pumping
through your veins
repairing wounds
you never thought
would be healed.

Your voice is electricity
that shoots through my ears
and down my veins like
Frankenstein's Monster.
Reanimating the dead
cells and tissue with
surgical precision.
Arcing across my back
and shoulders singeing
hair follicles and chattering
decrepit teeth in my mouth
like dice in a cup.

Your voice is electricity
and it's clinging to my chest
like a defibrillator, sending
shockwave after shockwave
through my heart and soul.

You messaged me yesterday.
Snide words about present company
and then wanted to see me. I agreed
because I no longer remembered the
sound of your voice. Those tones
and inflections that make the
ugliest insults sound like a church choir.
Spiritual. Soulful.
Your laugh rang through the car
like it has through the hollows
of my mind every night when
eyes are closed, beds are empty
and I try to remember the sound
of your voice.

You are a rummage sale
jigsaw puzzle. Pieces missing.
Colors faded and edges frayed
exactly like the edges of our smiles
as they crack through the masks
we wear. Faces half concealed
like the Halloween party
where Red seeped through
and made me feel again.