It was the palm of your hand in mine,
the tender tingles it sent through my arm,
the look in your eyes
Screaming
the fact
that
you
loved
Yet, I only felt it on the arm, nowhere else.
I had only felt exposed to the parts you touched, though
You had all the keys
You had my blood on your pink hands, and I didn’t even care
More, I didn’t notice such a thing
And
Neither
Did you.
It was how you could make me reverse in personality,
The way I submitted just as easily as I dominated, ruling both sides.
And it was the fact that you made it feel a lot more than it actually was, in retrospect, anyway.
But you weren’t all the bad. The man I loved wasn’t terrible, actually.
I don’t know who you are.
But why did you decide to take him from me?
What had I committed?
I miss him. The one you had taken.
My love.
I don’t know where he left to,
And still to this day
I wonder why
he decided to become a tourist without me
And leave his body behind.
Such a tender and tragic story, I’m sure.
But I blame it on the person who has taken over you,
My love.
It could be me mourning you,
It could.
But it shouldn’t, because I don’t mourn.
I take myself with you.
And I may be gone as well,
I think I’m close to figuring it out,
darling.
It seems that I shall
eternally be missing you,
But when summer comes close
that I shall allow myself to weep,
For it is the day
I’ve found you missing.
I won’t cry,
I won’t sob,
I won’t rain until dry.
Not for you
not for me
not for him
It isn’t such a tragedy as it seems, as you breathe and live into the day of April 1st
You aren’t dead, but it is very much a certainty that I may as well not see you
Ever again.
My love, I feel as if I’m lost
I still feel like I can reach towards your hollow body,
As I do not see myself in my mirrors
They all reflect
you.
But I realize with each sharp shard of pain,
That he’ll back away, which is so unlike you.
Normally, I think that you
secretly couldn’t of waited
to have your hands on me.
Dearest, do you realize how hard it is
To miss the good memories I have
Without missing you?
Somewhere, somehow, you were always in the frame
Whether the shadow of our pictures being taken,
Or in the windows of my eyes everytime I needed my daily eyeful of you.