the fragrance of her hair haunts me
the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles
the sound of her laughter
the curve of her face
the quiet grace of her every move

and still, my heart grows colder by the moment
my soul mummified,
dessicated

(All things seem ever distant
farther than the farthest star that I can see)

Of the things that I have feared
I ponder which is the worst
the silence
the darkness
or the emptiness

(The numbness binds me to the floor
smothers me
sucks the will to live out of me
Why fight it?
Disorder ever increases
And the emptiness is all that will be in the end…)

and yet I am not so far gone to give in to the nothingness
the black void of the vacuum
to let my body fall into the eternal night and burst
this slim thread of hope tethers me to reality
(and how it burns, how it aches)
pulls me down into the gravity well
(it feels like it’s tearing me apart)

knowing that I am ill at heart
ill in mind
is not enough
and even the tools of modernity
(these yellow and red pills)
only keep the emptiness at bay
so that it merely abrades
rather than lacerates
scrapes and rasps
rather than bites
(and the emptiness inside me is like a ravening creature,
hungry for my soul)

What words might there be that could turn her heart?
I have asked the night how many times?
I have asked the sea
and the wounded city
I have asked the thunder clouds and the lightning bolts
I have asked my heart in the still silence
and nothing stirs
and the question still remains

and no words will come
now and perhaps ever
and the silence will be my legacy
unto the grave
(and still my soul stirs uneasily,
restless
not yet willing to dissipate into the starry void)

and the songs come to mock me
(and to comfort me)
promising things that can never be
(not on this world line
not in my light cone)
and I am still bewildered
still heartsick
about how it all went wrong
and how the words failed me then
and how my faith in the words falter
every time my heartbeat quickens
and my breath catches

and yet the words are all that I have
all that I have to give
all that have any meaning
in this downward spiral
this frozen moment in time
this threshold between what is
and what will never be
this singular space
this fated moment
(and this too shall pass)

and only hope will remain
until it too breaks apart
fissions into a scattering of deadly light
sterile
sterilizing
still

(and even in this dying moment
the possibilities still exist
the potential lies dormant
latent
waiting to be tapped
if only I could find the right words.)