I hear his voice

call out to me across the years of my life

as though it were my own influence screaming at me.

I can feel every impediment of his sound

and the texture of his tone

is enough to distill

my words


as I listen at my window sill.

I've felt his hand against my skin


and shaking me out

unfolding my skin

and heart

my hands long numb and asleep

to language

and skill.

His moans carry out through the hills

and above the Evergreens

rising to my ears.

I can hear him

completely in his silence.

I can feel everything about him even at such a distance.

I hear the tear


from his bereft eye

as it hits the page that he fills

with words about me.

I can hear

his moan

cast out

from inside that other girl

when he wishes that it was me.

I can feel

his ache

because he and I are not right together

we're wrong

we don't fit

it will never work.

How many terms were used to conceal us

me from you

and you from me.

I can only exists for myself

and my hand

against you

as I found you on my page.

He was enough to shutter

me across these wandering weeks

of milky mornings

and raw nights.

I am the ghost

standing against him.

You can see me

as he passes by you.

Look for me

the girl

with brunette curls

and translucent eyes.

I can hear his moan

across these thin lines

drawn to keep us far apart.

I can feel

the stretch

and pull

of his movement

from thousands of miles away

as he keeps the lights on

to search me out

from old habit

because I feared

the emptiness so much.

I listen


in my youth

and remember

his hands

and his own movement.

How do I end this?

Close myself off,

close myself down.

To keep my heart deaf to his call.

The evening


and the freshness of the cold

comes on me.

I can feel everything around me

and you

so far away

but I've realized now

that I can't feel myself anymore.