desolate existence

I expected no word from you

when you left. 

But still, your silence 

left me with unspeakable grief. 


Words, unmaterial becomings

haunt a chosen leaf of time. 

To hold it, possess a spirit of 

loss, burrowing within my throat,

my lungs, 

my stomach, 

my knees, dizzy when I move 

towards holiness. 


I reside elsewhere, not of the 

time I’m in, 

but the time when I knew you. 


All I have now?

The spirit of grief, 

holy and deep.


All I hold now?

All I hold now is 

a cigarette, 

mind of its own,

addiction drawn to red lips, my 

lips, red from the blood

of you. 


Billowing smoke, exhale, 

breath of my own self let go,

opening my insides for you. 


I know your silence, 

all that’s left. 


Fill me, feel me.


Leave me.