LOST POEMS

 MY WRITINGS

E:

EC

I write for myself, always have,  

but your ghost lingers, E.  

You haunt these words,  

every damn line dripping with you.  

I read them back,  

hoping maybe you'll find them,  

or someone will,  

someone who knows what it’s like  

to ache like this.  

I don’t know if they will,  

but if they do,  

I hope they cry.  

Let them cry,  

because these words  

are all I’ve got left  

to justify the missing pieces,  

to justify the pain.  

I miss your scent clinging to my skin,  

your lips pressed against mine,  

the way you used to be here,  

and I can’t forget.  

So I keep writing,  

for me, about you,  

about what we were.  

I love you, skinny love,  

but it’s just words now,  

and I’m drowning in them.

C.