Saturday, July 3, 2010

Empty Rooms


I wander through the empty rooms in which I have not been
I see through your eyes lights illuminating bodies,
shadows pouring over bones, over skin,
gestures we have not yet uttered to each other
words we have not shared
bounce off walls still standing bare.
Was it me you wanted in those rooms, or someone else?
That new expansive house beside the lake she locked you in
where you comply, contented.
You invite me in to see what you have seen
but not to touch.
I want to touch your walls of fine confinement
I want to fill them with my cries, with yours.
In truth, it does not matter to have been there
or to have only been a ghost
it's in your mind I wish to fester
leave a scar as deep as you scarred mine.
You'll take me anywhere you go, you said
as you were leaving
lamenting what had happened when we were apart.
And here we are so long after facts disintegrated into riddles
still sort of talking, still ghosting in each others' thoughts.
Our time together lasted only minutes,
it might as well have been a lifetime, if at all.