a Soul Project

archival : to you, who surrounds me now :

He doesn't hold me, anymore.
No arms hold me.
Everyone I had, disappeared,
dissolved out of my life like
ionic bonds in water.
They surround me but they're weak.
I'm encased.
Their presence permeates everything,
yet they're invisible.
Can you see them?
Can you feel them?
I can't, anymore.
No arms hold me, none.
I grip myself at night.
I lay in bed, alone
since the first time, every night,
and my own hands clasp
each other like two lovers.
I've always known the difference
between my slender fingers
and this heartache's steady grip.
I'm not such a fool as you think.
I know you're truly gone.
I know your back is fully turned.
There'll be no last-minute reprise,
like before, when we undressed each other
after months of strained absence.
I burst,so incredibly relieved
to have my happiness return.
And every day between and after
I'd be wishing for your return,
wishing for you to take us to the tree outside
and bring us close again.
Can you believe, it was
three New Years' ago when
we spent our first foray outside.
It had snowed that week
so we laid out your jacket
and kept each other warm.
It was the first night I saw
your smiling eyes in the dark.
Nothing will ever be so beautiful to me.
And could you believe,
that only a year later,
merely two years ago,
we celebrated our New Year outside,
breathing heavily
to the pounding of our warm hearts.
We had our own kind of countdown.
I was wearing a skirt,
and you, a dress shirt and slacks.
I remember where, when, how.
Do you remember?
How we lay there afterwards
and laughed away the winter chill?
I want to feel your cold,
bright cheeks against mine, again.
I want to feel the frost in your hair,
your short breath on my neck.
I want to hear your voice,
more than anything in the world.
But lets recap this.
What do I have?
What am I left with, today...
a friend who understands a fraction,
a best friend who cares from afar,
a menagerie of peers who don't bother.
Its a shitty mixture.
I still cry every night.
Believe me, I hate it.
My life has become
dull and meaningless.
I've strained desperately for anything that helps me forget.
Yeah, I've been searching for exactly that.
Pain. Something to replace the pain.
To forget my loss of you.
Alcohol worked,
but I always knew
it would never be my thing,
so you can't take credit for that one.
And it wasn't you that made me stop.
That little letter you sent me?
It didn't make me listen, just resent you more.