lately, my answer to anything just seems to be
“i don’t know”
and when i reach out to the mirror,
my hands goes through and i can’t feel the person on the other side,
as if the twenty years or so that i survived
don’t mean anything to Reality.
and i want to fight back, you know
fight for my place, for my heartbeat
but how many battles can you wage,
and how many battles can you win
for a cause you no longer believe in?
i don’t know.
i think about bodies a lot,
and how clothes are so burdened with the task of
covering such substantial skeletons, such important skin,
as if they could ever veil
the blood that pulses in You.
Your body amongst orchids,
decomposing ever so slightly in the purple darkness of night:
a night that we do not possess
but it takes over us so completely in its solitude.
i hate that word.
i hate the entire farce of it all.
i’m not okay alone
you aren’t, either
and so isn’t anybody i’ve ever known,
but we keep dancing to this charade –
this pitiful masquerade
of independence and self-sustenance.
i don’t know.
i think what i’m trying to say is
you only know permanence when someone you love
becomes someone you used to love,
and the life that you’re breathing (but they aren’t),
the life that you’re breathing on borrowed time,
is suddenly so endless
because it’s me without You:
echoes of a voice that always comes around somehow empty.
and i’m tired of opening at the close,
a futile juxtapose,
only because i won’t allow myself to admit
that nothingness exists when i’m without You.