I don’t really feel alone anymore.
I divided myself in two, and each
half aches for the other. The splitting of
a soul feels better than longing for you.
At least when I dream, I don’t taste the salt
of my eyes and the red iron in my
cheeks. Now, I wake to the taste of cough syrup
and chalky melatonin tablets. My
dreams are vivid and nonsensical and
so are my thoughts, but all is better than
thinking of you. The parts of my body
that still reach out for your embrace served only
as embarrassments, so I cut them all
off and I look at the pretty, white
bandages instead. When the radio
plays the songs you liked, I turn the volume
all the way up until my speakers blow
and all I can hear is static. That’s the
best way to drown out the memory of
your voice. When I die, I wonder if that
will be enough to drive you away for good?