I don't say it
Every time we speak.
I don't tell you
That I try to feel your fingertips
Through the keys.
The only connection I'm left with.

You speak of the past.
Our past.
I join in.
Eager to relive any moment
That we cannot have now.

I bet you don't know that yesterday was March 19th.
7 months
Since I last saw you.
7 months.
Of missing sweet smiles
Red ringlets,
Natural laughter,
Wholehearted happiness,

And,
That thing that made you hesitate
That word you did not believe in
That word,
That you found only better ways to say.
You'd say it in your heartstrings,
The sheet music of your arteries,
The guitar picks of your fingertips.

Searing Passion

I'm burnt.