In the far off distance,
I still at times hear your fleeting footsteps.
It seems you hardly look my way anymore.
Sincerely, I wonder
how are you?

Will you answer me?
I want to inhale your sound.
Teach me heaven's alphabet.
Perhaps a cord of communication will emerge.
Even so,
words cannot explain these feelings.

On the 15th attempt,
a poem still does not convey
the definition
of what exactly my limbs tremble to portray.
When I dance for you,
watch closely.
I will accentuate the turquoise in your eyes.
Maybe then you will listen.
Shuddering to the allegro,
my bones will speak for you
until they finally collapse.

Save me.
I crave his voice,
injecting futile hope.
Once he explains that
I've replaced you,
will you look back?
If you come home,
perhaps I'll be able to sleep again;
then, when our fingers lace you will
pray with me.

Don't let me fade away.
Between the cracks of my fingers,
you are entwined.
Possessing simply my left hand will leave you
content, right?
Submerge in a bathtub of gasoline,
it is all I can offer.