Breaths come shallow
Quick spurts of cold air
That burns like ice as
It races down to my lungs.

My hands tremble
Barely able to hold the pen
In my fingers
The letters come out
Like scratches in dust.

Give it another moment to sink in
That he's gone forever
A nevermore touch that leaves me wanting.

Vocal cords moving on their own
Not with sound
But with every intention of
Crying out;
To be heard.

Four doors down
My past remains trapped
Behind a green door
Smothered in Charlie Brown posters

Memories grapple with the locks
As they beg to leave
To return to me.

To fade.

Small, sticky pools of salty liquid
Mixted with black eyeliner
Gather on the desk below me

A raging emptiness fills my chest and
No breath taken is deep enough to fill it.