not anymore

I am not invited to your laughter
I am not welcomed to the realms
of your fasting heart
(from the tears and quivers
and liberal silence)
I am not hugged by your eyes
whenever I cross the threshold
through the burning mat
of my perceptions

You do not catch me every time
I fall down the naked walls
of my eager skin spotted with longing

Your hand is not on my shoulder
when tears run down my face
in a silent attempt to moisten my thoughts
with the sound of your tongue on your teeth
now igneous with flames of contempt
the only thing that makes them true
is the thought of your mind on mine
of the warmth of your eyes on my own
of the freshness shared between breaths
whenever you’re in sight

but you’re not here

your lies are distancing cries between us
my fleas eager to jump back on your scalp
to bite and scratch until your thoughts pour out
and drown my fears with your ideas
but the hallways are too long
and my arms are not powerful enough

to carry my scent back to you
and scrub my floors with your years
pilling up on top of mine in futile somnolency
and I cannot fight this war
so I realise
I don’t want my ink to be diluted
by your sweat-drops


my feet are sore with the print of your steps
on the soil that hums to my reticent beats
but the ground has no memory
new grass is starting to sprout out
and your steps are erased easily
so that I’m warned not to worry

by the new life threatening to climb the balustrade
to my clenching heart still raging
with the thought of what could have been
and the ghost of what never was
who are married now
not out of love but of despair
as my shelves carry worry within
and my ink stains my dreams with a ring
of selves that in the past were akin
but which distance has mocked again
and now they are not the same


5 thoughts on “not anymore

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