my ears muster only the skeleton of your voice,

a hollow memory traipsing its legs over a joyful moment,

its recalcitrant grasp shackling me in high tides of self-loathing & worthlessness.

how is it you are with me everywhere,

tripping on the heels of my shadow,

each stride casting stones at the ruins of this temple?

in others, I seek you invariably,

like the thunder borne of the strike

& as with the falling rain,

my heart so splatters when I find you are not there

nor will you ever be.