Shimmering

 the words float, 

up above, 

crawls underneath, 

the crevices of my 

overworked brain 

yet nothing concrete forms 

the words are elusive 

there is a clog in the brain 

that holds back the words 

that have not been written in months

Back To Where We Left

Does it ever seem like
we ever left each other?
sometimes we talk
and the scent of your skin that prematurely limped away beckons memories - only the sweetest of them the lingering feeling of loneliness knocks and ushers itself in makes itself at home and berates me for the way things turned I try to tell it I am not fault But it answers 'but I made you cry.'