a Soul Project

archival : first upheaval :

It's funny
how everything so far
has been about one thing.
Everything in my life
up to this point,
for the past two years,
has been about him.
But what about me?
What about my escape?
I did it, you know.
I've been getting so close
ever since I began
to admit
that I'd lost hope.
My last strands remain
in the moonbox
I so quietly conceal.
It's his last trace,
his last and final mark
as I grow older without him.
It isn't what I want.
Look at me.
Sam and I are driving home,
holding hands over
the sounds of our voices,
and I'm holding back tears
because I can't help
remembering I'd rather be
clutching his hand;
listening to his voice.
I haven't taken my pills
for two days,
and look where I am already.
This isn't the girl
he would want,
but screw all of that.
As difficult as it is
to accept the empty space
his disappearance has created
in my heart,
in my life;
I'm not going
to be satisfied
until someone loves me back
the way I love them:
Sam is so good to me,
but where is my Chris?
Where the hell is my Chris.