new is now old,
my fingers are cold and shaking yet I still grasp at what once was.
it's hard to remember you.
fog-headed, I'll close my eyes to try to see
a piece of the past with clarity
like when your heart would beat for me.
like silence, only the sound of our lips
and the backs of my eyelids painting works of art.
like when your breath would whisper my name
and fill the room with ecstasy.
now only one appendage is flooded for me,
and I only feel you angrily
penetrating with resentment
and a fantasy I can not conceive.
but one day we had love, made love; and this is one memory
that above all else I'll choose to carry
in the hopes that it will re-emerge from the hole that it's been sucked into.
though I'm black and blue,
I won't give up on you
but good lord, I feel like I'm dying...