I wonder how you’ve moved on.
What cells in your body have departed from the way I taste and look and smell and what figments of you have progressed into things and notions I cannot fathom.
This weight has caused seizures in my heart and eruptions in the basement of my lips. Do you think of me when you’re with other women with shallow pools for hearts?
Come back to me. Drain the pain from my corpse one vein at a time; your love like a needle extracting the sorrow, your skin like a warm forest in my heart. Your voice a place to sing my tears to sleep.
The ruffles in my bed are warm from the dreams I have where you pretend to care. I still see you in my bedroom kissing me in the spaces of gold and dust you left behind. I still hear you through the waves in my windows as they break with strong sunlight and beg for colder nights where love lies in the snow and the world hasn’t left me behind. I still touch you in twilight where the pain is steady and throbs gently in my throat like a ship moving backwards. I still know your face beaming yellow song that tastes of gold while it’s melting.
There is a vast thick river of green dirt and blood and the tears of saffron swallows charging below me, forcing wet beads to bleed from my eyes that sear my skin on their way down to touch my swollen feet. The acrylic lies I tell myself don’t work, the vacant room in my head still spins with wet daggers and sinking ships. The sailors have retired to their wives and sleep with brandy smiles while you still tread the thickness of morphine waves and count the swans that spill their seed while the sky closes in from the ground.
And what happens when the pain stops, what do I feel then, if it ever stops. Will it ever stop?