It’s so strange that the people I’m most comfortable with also make me feel like they’re going to go away from me at any given moment. They make time feel like a vortex that they like to edge closer and closer to just to keep me on my toes, no, to keep my heart pounding in my mouth. It’s an existential game. “How Long Will It Be Until She Stops Dreading?”
After the panic
the madness, our madness
hold me tight
choke it out of me
strangle the fear right out of me
lines of blue blur around my neck
the room goes from small to smaller to fade to black.
is that soft suggestive breeze
that utters itself
through the mouth
of a friend
who means no harm
Mind the gap between his
two front teeth
as I lean in to kiss him
out of habit.
A force stronger than
the tickle of a breeze
“The kiss, it’s only in your head, “
whispers the wind,
“Memory is just as suggestive, no?”
Memory trickles down into my skin,
embeds in my nerves,
gets to every tip and follicle
Mind the gap
between his presence and his memory
As you lean in to kiss him,
the fog engulfs and
you fall right through.
If I had to see you again
I wouldn’t, simply out of fear.
Would we still have it?
That soft fluid burning on a thread
each end tied to the pit of our stomachs.
And what if it isn’t there anymore?
I would perish all over again, I would mourn,
I would turn to black and mould.
And then there would be the other questions.
Did it take a marriage to forget me or just an afternoon?
Did you have to exorcise my memory and feed them
to your demons?
And where do you keep the carcass?
Mine sleeps beside me, snuggled,
as you did,
almost every night.