2016

This room is empty and cold. Spirits are climbing the walls like rodents, and the floor is covered in dirt. It is the same room that kept us up all night talking. The room where we discussed our favorite poetry, poets, authors, and philosophy. The room where you told me about your mother, and your boys. We sat here, and sometimes all we could do was breathe. It was in this room where you placed your strong hand on my arm before you kissed me. And you inhaled my soul. We waltzed on the ceiling and we smoked up the windows. I am waiting for the moon to show up tonight because I don't trust anyone else. I will pour us both a drink, but just for my lips. I am sitting alone in mind, body, and spirit, and this heavy silence is giving me a headache. I think I am finally going mad. The conversations we had last winter haunt me with realistic voices dangling on the back of my head. They replay our history like an outdoor theater in Seaside. No one is really paying attention, except me. And these voices are the best actors; I can hear the inflection in your voice when you speak about religion. And the slightly airy pause between syllables when you talk about Schopenhauer. Your words evolve so heavily, tumbling from your mouth, yet it is as though you pace yourself for an audience of reincarnated children. You spilled your thoughts onto my lap, and I traced every single fucking word on my thighs. I mouthed the pronunciation in your belief system and analyzed the meaning behind your perspective. My memory of such glory plays in shuttered slow motion bringing me a deep warmth, but it is temporary. Just as my lips turn upward with my recollection, I am gutted with despair and heaving with sorrow. A morose darkness ensues and I am devastated that you are not here. I feel like harvested wildlife, stopped dead in its tracks, life ripped from its chest still beating hot. I miss you and this room is perverse. I am burning sage and redecorating drunk. The memory of you follows me like an old friend, but his motives are slanted and I think he's an enemy in disguise.