I dreamt about you seventeen times last night.
The first 9 were fleeting, the last 8 stuck,
Into my memory, like the way you stuck to the roof of my mouth.
And I miss your taste, I dream about coming after you.
But i’m not used to having to swim the ocean on my bedroom floor alone.
And I think the water is getting deeper.
So I’m counting what you’ve left behind like a clock counts seconds.
Constant. Never-ending.
And I can still feel you here.
I can feel your name crawling up my neck.
It moves slowly and creeps into every wound its holder left behind.
For me.
And the the music you left on the stand whispers to me.
I swear I can see you in the notes. Swirling, you were a just line with no guide.
You never needed a guide.
But I did. I do. I need a counselor. I need a teacher. I need you, I can’t go anywhere without you.
And thats what you want.
Because I can’t get to the door now. I’ve forgotten how to swim.
You were my life vest.
And the floorboards ask about you. They creak your name. They ask me where you’ve gone.
I tell them I don’t know. I tell them what you told me to say.
And I swear you told me enough times to fill a book.
Yes, I promise i’m not following you. I would never be able to find you. I’m starting to forget your face.
How long has it been?
Because I thought I would love you until that clocked stopped counting seconds.
But its still ticking. And all devotion is gone.
Because love is just being comfortably terrified.
And now i’m just scared.