I am not quite sure what to say.
My lips cannot move into the right ways to speak even the wrong words.

The edges, the pockets of my mind is terribly creased.
The dizzying criss-cross of lines and crumples
paint hopelessness
into
tears.

I miss the very susurrations your being makes,
when you were next to me.
Even on sun-dappled days,
I still feel the ghost of your shoulders & elbows nudging mine.

My collarbones still feel the lines of your lips right

                                                               ­                                    t here.
My soul miss and misses yours.
But I do know,
this is
a
void
that
will only
become
space and time
*itself.