When we met, we were happy.
Days passed in blue skies and Marb Lights,
And hollow nights filled with conversation
That could easily fill novels
Both fantasy, and reality.
I can't think of a moment when your fingers weren't interlocked with mine,
A contract of our closeness
More binding than black print.
You were in love with me once,
With every part down to my skeleton,
With my spine that shivered even though your eyes were forever warm
And the dark spaces that my father left in the caverns of my heart
Where your words sparked passionate fires.
Then something shifted.
And I watched with trembling hands
As your eyes turned grey and cold in an echo of the sky.
All at once the gaps started forming,
The unwelcome emptiness creeping into our love
Where cracks turned to chasms
And split first our conversations, then our hands.
You looked at me differently.
I noticed but never spoke,
Not even when I smelled her perfume hanging on your clothes
And I realized that everything you said
Was slowly choking my heart in ash.
Now you’re smoking Parliaments
They’re her brand and they seem to hang softer from your lips,
As you talk with a fluent sort of excitement
Never tainted by the silence
That haunted us like ghosts in the night.
We haven’t held hands in a while
But I still remember how they felt,
Almost as steady and warm as the pen I now grip for security
While you’re out somewhere gripping her.
And I’m happy for you,
Almost unbelieveably so
But I still find myself longing for the warm glow
You used to cast inside of me,
And wonder if you’ll ever come back
To stoke the fire.
