Prose

XX

And you are mine mine mine. You are the burn in my stomach and the scratch in my throat when words gurgle up to the surface and spill out, jumping over each other until I forget to speak. You are my pain to bear, no one else's. No one has felt the dull ache that I do when I look at you and you look back. No one knows the terribly quickened pace of my pulse when you edge your way into my peripheral. No one can feel this way. You are mine mine mine.

But I cannot feel you anymore. I cannot feel you when there is so much more to be felt. The sun caresses my skin and the wind musses my hair and you have been lost in the fountain water and the thick grass and the cold rain. You are lost to me; nothing. But you are still mine. I scroll past your name every other hour, hoping that you have moved. Mine mine mine. And screams won't drown you out. Dreams won't drown you out. The moon won't, the cars won't, the trees won't.

And you are irrefutably mine. Mine mine mine. And I want you gone gone gone. But I feel empty when you are. When you slip from my mind when the lights below me spin and whirl and my breath escaped me and songs from 2006 ram against my ears, I feel empty and lost. Lost and lonely and sad and desperate.

But I am also happy and full and loving and beautiful when you are gone.

And I am torn. And I love you and I need you and I want you and your touch has been painfully engraved into my skin with needles and knives and fire.

But I no longer need assurance. You are mine mine mine and I am happy again. I am smiling. I am happy. I am happy. I am happy and you are mine.

April 19, 2014 12:09am