Punchline

You’re bitter in my mouth, love. 

I can almost taste apathy on the back of my tongue long after watching your first words forming in the space between.

I pondered/struggled/writhed with anguish to gather my scattered selves and reach my unsung melodies of terror and solitude to tell you that it’s sunny, love. 

And that although it’s the middle of January and we’re said to hit the climate climax of the season but I don’t feel anything. In fact, I did not hear a single cold wind hitting my back.

Denial is a river in my brain cells, refusing to utter the syllables out loud in your presence.

What’s Latin for “Imissedyou”?

How do you spell “whole” again?

Where’s your moon today?

When I found my voice, I awoke.