I uttered last words - wrongly.
Forgive me, Forgive me.

So what is the count this time?
Myriads of lies, fractures
Broken bones and drunken bruises,
All of our love, tears and laughter,
Gossip and confusion...
Memories of a union.

I happen upon a swollen scab -
A hole.
In the very center of non verbal communication.
I held you with it, I acknowledged and rejected you with it,

And now, in words, I love you with it.

But my last words can only be of affliction by loss.
Adoration, the infection which burns in me
Right now, for none but your beautiful character.
The dark recess that is gnawing and growing
In place of the physical you.
Love again, manages to wear me weak -
All I can do is think about you.

All my vowels broaden and dampen.
I can see the stammers and blurbs now,
One single week from today they will they take their first flight,
From my wretched little mouth.
Flying with pain to your delicate ears.
Your ears, that hear me so clearly
Through my miles and miles of madness.

Who will hold me now,
When I stumble through mistake again?
Console me, while I shudder?
Laugh with me, in sweet radiant comfort?
This rarest, most purest of unions,
Partinng, and stretching to gain a whole landscape inbetween.

My eyes fire and throat numb
Rasping a sob and clutching at nothing.
I have no proper keepsake here,
I have no real proof that you were ever here.
Except the questions of where, where -
Where have you gone?

I will always love you, no matter the cost.
My suffering of your sudden physical death
I will bear forever endlessly, boundlessly, and willingly,
For I would have suffered far more, to have never been graced,
By you.

Yes the hole here will heal, but a scar is to remain.
And I name it after you.
This way,
I know you existed my love.
I know you were here,
I knew,
You.

And all I do is think all about you,
And these memories of our union.



(~Es Tevi Milu~)