Own a house on that street.
You inhabit my writing—
Live in the spaces between words—
The places where I pause,
Inhale and exhale.
Obviously, you’ve become
Part of me.
But what does it take to be a memory?
One jagged arm of lightning
And a bottle of wine
Will suffice.
I don’t need to remind you—
We’re on a ball of mud
Hurtling through space—
But I don’t feel it—
Only the turmoil inside me
When I need you and you’re not there.
Everything inside me is jumbled,
And now the shards
Of this broken dream
Are part of the mosaic.
I can’t stand your absence or
These nights of waiting.
I’ve wound all the clocks,
Surrendered to their gears –
You’ll come or you won’t;
Regardless, I spent
Another day of darkness,
Of clouds and rain
Watching rain trails
Down an indifferent pane—
God, how I miss you…