She walks away with flare
Leaving the scent of jasmine in the air
And I sink in the remnants
Of her vocal impressions
As I drop back into the arms of silence
Heavy with recollection
As real as the floor I lay against
Seeing her figure disappear
Into the darkness of a hallway
Too many times
Over and over again
I reach out a hand to call her back
But only the disturbance of air
Replies back in sad despair
Her presence is now only a remembrance
Of molecules scattered
Touching the receptors in my brain
Touching battered tatters
Forming abstract images of infatuation
Where her face melts and withers
Into the vague imprint of frustration
Losing its individuality to sillage

You've taken too long to come haunting,
wading through instances of mud, of regret,
until my wanting has all but dissolved.

You've broken my spine with curious fingertips,
an innocent ghost with fireplace eyes,
where questions went unnoticed, unsolved.

You've come knocking with empty cages,
pulling behind what you'd begged to forget,
you spoke to my spine like needles, absolved;

until my teacups are dust on the shelves
and your flowers don't wilt, but burn,
of stove and house and noose and all.