display | more...

I measure love with loss.


Obsessed with ticking movements

Calculated distances to out-sync

One rhythm

With another,

But in the end it always returns,

Marching triple time and

Confusing the beat.

I try to paint it out,

Pluck it out,

Scrawl it down.


Ghost feelings rambling around in an area

Usually occupied by the loved one,

Catching for moments here

And there, causing something like

Emotional reflux.


Shut it out,

Although it comes back in dreams

And teases for days.

Sleepless with irrational thoughts

About the weight and

The density.

Second march,

Third march:

Kitchen floor.

Bathroom.

Hallway and Back.



Log in or register to write something here or to contact authors.