sometimes i wonder where she went, that girl. who used to love to dream and read and write and draw, who was so passionate. i wonder why she isn't here with me now, where she went, if she went anywhere at all. if she eroded away with time and if i might find her sediments still somewhere, being tossed around in the waves of my mind. if she was startled from that dreaminess when the alarm clock woke her because she was only a dream, if she ever felt tired enough to go back to her old self. sometimes i wonder if she died, if i missed her funeral, if she even had a funeral (and if she did, who would go? she didn't have any friends), if her body is still rotting somewhere in the cracks on my skull. because that's where she's fallen—in the cracks.

i think about her too often. I am too caught up in the past and future, i don't even recognize the present when it's staring back at me in the mirror.

the words have left me.
i am so lonely without them.
i am so lonely without her.

i write her obituary over and over in my head but none of the words sound right. she was great, she was awesome, she was more than that. she was a dreamer, an artist, she was more than that. she had thrown her head into the sky and rejoiced to see it floating amongst the clouds. no, she was more than that. still more than that.

because i miss her.
i really ******* miss her.

i've said this to myself so many times they're carved into my skull, tatooed onto my lips, blackened my teeth with their ink. i've said it so many times but it doesn't bring her back. i miss her more but that doesn't bring her back either.

i should use my time resourcefully and try to find myself while she's gone but i'm nothing without her. without her i'm just a headless body navigating the streets of newyorkcity at 3a.m. i get lost when i'm alone and i can't stand it. i am a simile without the adjective, just two nouns that don't know what to do with each other. i am getting lost now, writing this.

Let's
Make
Love
With
These
Words
Open Our hearts
And fly High like birds
But ground our emotions
Like the roots in which Mother Earth planted
Take a chance and make an alpha(bet)
It will take more than 26 letters
to show that we are lovers
Of all the words I could use to describe our love
I pick (serendipity)
because clearly we were meant to be
and it happened (unexpectedly)

Sweaty p(a)lms
Perspiri(n)g pits
Pounding headache, comple(x) thoughts
Heart rac(i)ng at a fast pace
Eyes focus(e)d on burdens
Thoughts compe(t)ing to finish a pointless race
Empt(y) heart seeking comfort

Emotions fighting to be expressed
Mouth dry, stomach turning, soul burning
Pain left to explain what's happening within

Parallel
Across the page
A writer's scene
An author's stage

he snarled at me
accusation embedded into each word
I thought I knew you
I thought I could trust you
but you're nothing like I thought
how can you bear to live with yourself
how can you not feel sick
- collaborator!
he expelled that last word
as if he would be the one to *****
you gave in
while the rest of us struggled on
you gave in
we thought you were with us
but all along you had betrayed us
you betrayed yourself
you didn't write that alone
you had a partner
didn't you!
didn't you!

I paused
not sure how to respond
it was true
I couldn't deny it
I had stopped working alone
I had
- collaborated
I had fallen in step with another writer
and it had felt
great

I am just a man
And my dream has just began
To be a great writer is what I want
To write something for everyone…

I believe it is not easy
But someday you will see,
With my confident to do this duty,
I will write a great poetry.

I will write a song,
I will write a poem,
Even telling you the story
Of the beautiful cherry blossom

And when I end this,
I know that I made it;
And behind all of this,
Is a great writer to be cherished…

©2009 John Vincent Obiena. All rights reserved.