the blackness is demanding
its tearing at my skin
your hand is supposed to be gripping mine
because that's how it goes- how it's meant to be
but you're not here
~
the dark is squeezing, covering my eyes
I can't feel a thing
the air is ricocheting against my throat- it wants out
I've forgotten how to breathe
but, you're not here,
strong arms showing me how it's supposed to go, and gentle touches convincing me it's meant to be
~
darkness is in your place
and every night it returns
reminding me
what we had-
is buried six feet deep with your soul
in a casket, I'll never see
~
and I don't know how it's supposed to go, and I'm not convinced this was meant to be