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Fragmented
It is almost cruel
how the scent that your skin left
on my sheets
still finds a way to charm my dreams.
The fragments of you
with which I shamelessly decorate my conscience
and everything in-between
have found their way to my center.
They rise up in my throat
and I try to force them down
but it is always too late at night
to find the strength.
As I bury myself
in all the words I wish you'd say
I feel as if
my bones might turn to dust.
The entire world
might have dissolved around me;
if it has,
I haven't noticed.
The only time I'm sure
that I exist
is when I see my reflection
in your eyes.
