I feel the blood rushing out
From invisible wounds.
I see things, in a blur, a rush, dazed, uncollected.
Cold water rushing though my hair.
So bright I can’t see. Am I awake?
I feel your hands, running along my back.
My hands grasping my dry hair. What is happening?
Is this another haunting?
I hear you whisper into my ears,
Something that once could set me ablaze.
I reach for your lips and the brightness dims,
I see you, it’s raining, or is it the shower?
Too near to sense, too far to feel.
The water’s getting warmer but my arms are cold.
I can feel you on me but I can’t perceive your skin.
The veins in my head are bursting.
Am I drunk? Or was it the bottle of sleeping pills?
You’re something I made you become.
The phantom scars of your words and how your touch heals them; is tormenting?
Everything is abstract, or the opposite of it. I see but I don’t feel.
Where are you?
Passing through the house, looking for clues
To where you might be, I can’t sense the cold walls but I feel the cotton sheets.
I am being haunted. By the ghosts of my memories.
They need to wake so I need to sleep.
The only way you’re here is in my dreams.