You’re not talking,
But your silence is loud.
Spreading, expanding,
Drowning all other sound.
You’re not talking,
So, I fill the void,
With a one woman dialogue,
Hoping to devoid,
Of you,
Without losing too much,
Of me,
When I have just a few,
Left of me to clutch.

Talk to me.
No thanks.
Just give me some words.
I’ll send you a text.
I need to hear.
I don’t see why.
So we can move on.
Then just text goodbye.
You don’t understand.
No, I really don’t.
Things can be explained.
Well maybe that’s what I don’t want.

I want you to wake up,
And wish that I was there.
And when you have your breakfast,
To hate the empty chair.
To cry into your pillow,
Just like I do.
And for your bed to be so cold,
Since I’m not there with you.
But really most of all,
I want you to know,
With every fibre of your being,
You shouldn’t have let me go.

Let go,
Let time flow through me.
Whistling up and down my hollow veins.
Swirling and flattering on its way.
Knocking on windows,
Barging through doors.
Wreaking havoc,
Instigating wars.
Between me and myself,
Keeping scores.
And I'm always losing,
Both of me.
Losing myself, my sanity.
If I ever had it,
Time has it now.
And I am left with hollow veins,
And no time.

I have new lines,
New strands of consciousness,
New threads of mind.
I have new lisles,
New warps across,
New wefts around.
I have new sanity,
Minus preoccupation,
Plus sense and sound.

Out the window,
One by one.
Ever said,
Never done.
Resolutions.
And I'm here,
Left with none.
Never can,
Ever plan.
Solutions.

First I was born,
Then I was cut,
Into pieces, parts.
Separated, branded,
Marked.
White, female, Jewish – stamped.
And so, I'm stuck,
In this, existence
With these pieces,
With these stamps.
Even if I vary,
It will never be throughout.
I can never scrub it off,
The mark.
There would always be a trace,
Of before,
Piece,
And stamp.