258. Q: Where are the arrows of love, now?

A: There is a bruise on my thigh in the shape of your hand

and I haven’t seen you in months.

I slept last night, I think. I keep dreaming that I am sleeping

with you, but I am not sleeping with you

and I wake up in sweat and it is all very confusing.

I’m jealous of whoever is hearing the rings

of your laughter. I had exactly what I wanted. Exactly!

I had taken many things from it, but never for granted. Not that.

I am in the heartache now. Right in the middle, blood and dark

and ventricle walls screeching apart.

You say I always want more, but there is a difference

between “more” and “better.” I want this and you,

but the version of it where we’re kind to each other.
Where the wounds are clotting and every day is light

falling out of our mouths.

I want for this cascade to be a different color,

a different number. I want to live in a life

that is without your absence.