unnamed

fierce flames lick under the skin. she was right. they burn,
anguish curls around my lips and my tongue and my finger and my veins.
where are you? where will you be tomorrow, and day after,

and the day after next?
when time keeps passing us by,
and you are drawn further away,
a figment of my imagination 
a scar of my past a story
i'll never tell to someone else, 
even if they asked.

time heals all pain. he said.
is he right? i'll wait to tell you. 
but right now, it is the ring of clashing notes in my ear, the constant strumming of your guitar, the beating, 
the bold beating of your heart, and the music in your life,
that i miss.

i remember the creases in your eyes, those lines of fatigue, defeat and laughter.
i remember the black and white blocks on your head,
chunks of hair missing,
other harshly brushed over to hide the marks of someone else trying to engrave their story into your skull,
to let it soak to the bone.

i remember the harshness of your hands,
their smallness,
the bitten nails,
the papery feeling of coarse skin and dry cells.
and then i remember your face. all your faces. all my fears are all part of you. the same body made of different pieces from different times.
you cannot be named.
    her eyes,
          his nose,
you.
                    all of you, scattered across the pavement.

 "all this feels strange and untrue, and i won't waste a minute without you." 

11 April 2012 17:21