A Crushing Love Story

Certainly for a time your face and words took up
my space like a smokescreen.
Before long, I am very aware of my landscape,
the sharpest, most hateful part of it all being
you are smokescreened now and still.
Letting me alone again.
When I imagine the dark creeping in,
– the curled familiar said words,
The Illness, The Horrors, all inching across tile
through shadow then fluorescent light –
I forget that the darkness is me.
That there would be no cruel in my life
without My Life.
This strange kind of power leaves me with myself
in a romantic and loud way.
A loud way that I swallow like far-too-large gulps of water,
a brand of harmless sting that still makes one look to God.
A loud way that screams in my brain but at best is whispers
through the teeth.
Every memory with teeth may bite but it bites not the flesh.
Do not forget. If I am unscathed, memories would keep me that way.
Think that your prayer.
So that.
That’s why I don’t need your smokescreen.


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