empty chest

becoming honest to a fault with so much still left to say

there’s something familiar in her air,

déjà vu in the echo,

and i’m claustrophobic in the breaths between,

gloving what i couldn’t hang,

and spiraling my way off of her balance beam;

there’s a wishbone in her breeze,

and in my memory i caught it,

rolled my change down like laundry,

and gilded the silence that pillows our mesh,

fleshing out the crawlers, flawlessly alive;

almost explicit in stride and mirror-cut in imitation,

we wore wounds woven and wasted,

cut clear and concise, to a point, sharp and tainted,

like a preview, now sat only to reflect off the glass left on the scene;

-

a state of matter turned from a state of mind reversion,

and unbeknownst to me i approached the same road and the same lane,

with the same clothes and the same burden,

and it burned into my brain,

but your name and your unnerving distance sit familiar and unchanged,

in my lungs like water, swallowing your footsteps, i’m convinced,

the black within my blinks is just the absence of your face now, carved out and caved in,

my spirit tucked away, and left hollow,

in flattened excess,

empty chest, full brain;

acd