POEM: “As If You Were Gone”

I like you here as if you’re gone,
distant like the tribe beyond the horizon;
Your presence fills my humble quadrant of solitude
with the clinging tincture
of your laughter, your cry, your moaning—
your everything that’s nothing now.
The nostalgic fondness
is very much a thing of piety
for it reminds of a God, not who is bitter,
but apathetic.

And your eyes hold the
sly triumph at having given my hold the slip
and here, the bed is filled less with
the scent of lovemaking, than the soreness felt
in the loins, starved of promised mating,
of deprivation.

And your voice threads the slew of
listless syllables
echoing only because it were expected.

But I’d rather commune with your silence
that thing beaming dimly around the shadows,
like the clouds above a dark lake of thoughts,
reaching out to me, slowly, inaudibly,
then it springs like the unfurling sea awoken from dreaming,
and it consumes me with its poison of syllables,
“Maybe we should just be friends…”
Yeah, maybe.

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