(to him)

would you ever know that
my vomit reeks of you
your blood, your soul
filling the gaping
where my life
my heart should be?

i think nothing of myself as i
my fingers down my throat and
retch at the thought
of how much I need you.

i do not speak of you
only murmurs in my sleep that slip past my subconscious
when i dream of nothing else
when i make myself believe that i can feel you gently kiss my eyelashes
pass my lips, if at all.

(it hurts to wake and realize it's not real)

i cry for you once again
knowing you'll never be here to
wipe away
these pathetic, clichéd tears that come from
this pathetic, clichéd soul.

it thrashes and rips me apart after
being frantically stuffed down my throat over and over
and so i wait

i wait for the sound of your footsteps to fade
and i wait for your voice to echo itself into oblivion
until i can't remember it.