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?
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