To Whom-

Let's sit together and talk like we used to. . . when we were young; your voice was like a bass drum- pumping through my brain. You were a white noise to block out the rest of the world. I can never remember what we talked about but I remember the silence when we expelled all our stories and fears. Closer, you came, and I heard the sound of locusts flying- their beating wings, drowning out my vision. I was senseless and clung to you, stable and strong. There was a deep rent in your soul- I saw it one day. And for a moment, I fell in love with you. I felt strong where you were weak. I wanted desperately to be the one. Am I beautiful enough? to fill the void, the gap, the space? When you look at me: you see my shell, pretty and useless, with soft hands, soft lips. You never did find out if I was beautiful. We stopped talking long before it ever came up. And I- never healed the part of you I loved the most. Where do we go from here?