Somehow the chilly breath of the fleeting winters air still touches my skin

In the middle of a warm august day

and how when your name is mumbled under the connivance of coffee stirrers and mild chatter

in the middle of public places--

my bone marrow curdles where I stand.

 

Though the fridgeness you've left in your wake along with the pain that is so surely tagging behind

in the veins where "I miss you" is still a sludge moving ever so slowly-- is surely, the worst.

It works through each vein, and back into my lungs to take my breath away

before it touches back to my heart.

 

Your lingering presence is so evident that when I bleed, it is as green as your eyes.

And when the hours seem to dwindle in the left over day light is when your memory comes to life

running over my mind like an 18 wheeler tramps the highway everyday

to work, back home, and back to work again.

Never stopping, and wearing the tread thin on the tires of sanity

 

Sleep becomes less about  wanting rest and rejuvenation

And more about wanting to pretend its alright again

and while your name works its way down through each major artery and back into every little vein

like a flood of hope being washed in its own blood 

I find it hard to believe that shooting stars can grant wishes big enough

to cleanse you from me

 

You were so subtle, like a cup of coffee enjoyed everyday, in the same spot

Eyes glassy and unaware of the changes to come as they graze the landscape

And before you know it, the glass of the pot-- shattered, the cup had gone missing

and all you see is a ring of a stain on the table

left, staring at you-- 

showing you what you thought was meant to be there. 

Now lost into the sands of history

clinging onto the memories built on hope, and glad to drown in the sea of smiles.