Twelve Fifteen

Twelve Fifteen

There is a quiet, steady relief beginning to pulse and flood into my toes. I’m going to drown soon, and it will be lovely. I’m going to sink and recharge. Maybe I’ll talk to you, or at least read you. I want you to be proud of me, too. I want to lean back against you as clouds waft and snake out of my mouth and nose. Have you holding me while I can be taken by the dizziness.

I can find a place for your shadow to fit everywhere I go, and I do that. Bundle it up and chuck it into a corner to explode and expand and stay. I want you to stay. I’m going to expand my own story to make it better. I’m going to pull you in, so get ready.

I think of you in words. They make you up in staggered lines of narrative poetry that are thick, sweet and dripping. I can see reflections of us in the pools of melted language at your feet. Splash and play, it will help you understand if you don’t already.

I try and avoid widening the lid of my mind’s eye because there’s always such a wavering reflection of loneliness glimmering there. There are so many things…I could hear you wishing for things to happen and here is this huge flower of a wish unfurling around the echo of you’re absence and it’s such a shame you are not here to see it.