So much of what we write is just words thrown together…do you notice that? 

Am I the last one to know? 

I try. I’m trying. I know you didn’t leave me but you left me and I am running out of words to describe the quiet I live in now. 

I’ve run out of places to stake my spot. Make my own. I stretch out my skin to fit but it doesn’t make any difference. Still I remember that day with the sand in my toes, and I know nothing can replace the way I felt then. People ask about you but I shake my head. There are other things, I say. I allude to more. But really. What they mean is it. Is true. 

I fill up your absence with the presence of better memories. They don’t mean a thing in comparison. I reach out to myself but myself is tired of turning the page. 

A toss and a splat, the words slide down the wall. As empty and silent as you imagined…you wait. 

Drip drip


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