Iodine

Like loneliness isn’t enough,
I have you.
You rush in
even before I realize
how much I need you,
and rush away
before I realize
I’m over you.

The smell of your scalp
as I inhaled you good-bye
still fills my lungs
with the tinge of iodine.
I miss the longing.

The place is huge without you,
I lose myself in its empty corners.
I have the couch all for myself,
but that is not what I want.
A breath wafts by my side
and echoes of you;
a hollow voice
a resonance of your whining.

And then there is my life,
in a heap on the floor,
ready to be swept, too, under the rug.

How many times must the same wound bleed
before it heals?
How many times must I hit rock-bottom
before I rise again?

I tumble down from grace
won’t you hold out a hand for me
and let me drag you down
to my lacy black abyss?

I break the ground beneath my feet
and descend at you.
I drink you like my soul
that I miss so much.
I soar above you
and break into pieces,
and shimmer while falling
like our end.

I scatter the stars
over your voice
that I may hear it again.
Again and again
I break your silence,
I break into song
over your wound.

Smile,
that I may find my words again.
Smile,
that I may shatter my gagged self
and weep again.

Won’t you hold me now
while I fade away?
Won’t you hold me
and I’ll dissolve into you?

Hold me for when their eyes sweep over me
like refined dust,
hold me for when I crumble before the indifference,
before the sweeping blasé of their yawn.

And on their faces
frozen smiles
fissured skin
and sadistic dreams.

I write you now
that I may erase myself,
I write you now
that I may be born again.