i spilled ink on a blank page

and it spelled out all the things i could never say to you

on the phone, your voice sounds like it’s dying

and i hope that in the black of night

the telephone lines will carry the unspoken things in the spaces of my sentences

i have a gaping whole in my chest when i think of things that could have been

i bet you would have tasted like streetlights and rain that night

if i would have kissed you under the lamp post when i dragged you down to meet me

you would have felt like the cracks in the pavement under my fingers

you were the alleyways and the fog and the bricks that kept the buildings together when the sky broke through

i look at your hands and your lips and i think they would feel better than any glorious and screaming dawn

i wish i could tape you back together but our bodies are so far apart