8 Days

Was just listening to you write. With your thwarted glance. Everything numbered. Itemized.

Was just thinking. Too much again. As you've told me that I do. Spare tires loosing air again.

I don't know what you are now any better than I did then. Every color of yours I tried to match orphaned.

I don't know how it feels to drag my fingers through that coiled hair. Softer than it should be.

I used to try to discover where you are. But now all I can do is trace the outline. Imagine the borders. As though they are still there. As real as you once seemed.

In color. In drunkeness. As the hour would feign truth. As your underwear would stare so bright. Headlights against every intrusion.

I don't want to know what you've been. I'm not that sober.

Just want to know how close I am to being. What you are.

Will the memory know us when we're gone.

Hollow the trees. Build a nest.