I can hear the water dripping
From a memory into the faucet where the basin of my tears has been sitting,
Waiting for you to drink them up
Flavorless, but full of nutrition.

This isn’t the same as it was. Your words
are music,
but the emptiness they are made of is more than lightening could shatter,
more than any question I could answer.

I don’t know where all my courage came from.
One moment we were lovers, the next
Betrayed
and forgotten on the front steps
(chilled concrete, running from shadows, knowing the world is evil)

With you, I became some sort of second voice
one that was heard
one that was imaginary—I am now seeing
more colors than I have ever seen before
and it is ugly.
They are blending together, becoming murky.

I wish I could step backwards,
but somehow I am propelled constantly towards something inside of me—
forward!onward!—
and it feels lighter, simpler
than the heavy words I read (the ones that spilled from your seemingly empty mind and onto the page)

I have not felt that way in a long time.