His Pygmy

His Pygmy Its there. Small, bare, simple to grab hold. No one envies what they can barely see, and no one cares enough to see what they can barely feel, themselves. At 3am it is there beside me, staring wide-eyed into the night. We stare at nothing together. I think about a rough hand to hold; a speck of warmth to console me; a strong chest to lay my head upon; but we remember and we play dead, instead. The sound of night is our dearest friend. We listen closely to nothing together. The scab on my forehead finally erased. The teeth marks on my breast no longer indented in me. The blue and purple masterpiece on my back, finally faded. The limp in my walk, almost unnoticeable. The words that were never meant to break me lie in pieces next to my shards. I consider picking them up and starting over, but we lay numb Together. Ruminating on something that never was, I place my hand heavy upon layers of me, to feel it deep inside my chest, waiting for it to come back I don’t think it can When remembers too much, and tomorrow will not be different because this is the only way We feel anything, anymore. Better to have pain Than nothing at all. I turn over and stare at the reason. I hate that we don’t know what love is.