The evenings never flow,
never dissolve like cigarette smoke,
they are a torture party
for invisible forces
that howl in my head,
reminding me of my loss and-
what feels like their perpetual victory.

Only hours ago
you were counting the notches of my spine,
you were whispering love
and grabbing handfuls of my hair,
I bit your ear,
you scratched my arm,
we made a melodious war
for guaranteed peace.

I think of you often,
a prisoner of disjointed sheets,
your amber eyes,
seeking foreign dreams in mine.

I swallow my longing to run back,
only to rest my head against a pillow
that smells heavily of your perfume.

The voices howl
and I don't sleep.