These Words

I am no good at these words.
Or so it would seem.
The night that you left is not nearly as fresh as last years worst dream.
I have a heart in my chest.
But the rest.
Well.
I’m not the best.
Not the best at these words.
The ones that sting and that hurt.
The ones that I do my best to keep away.
It seems in dreams a key appears.
That unlocks the memories I try best to lock out.
Block out.
Shut out.
Shoat out.
I stumble over these words.
I stumble and most times they go unheard.
There is no way to will away pain.
But there is a way to keep it at bay.
Until there are reminders.
And like a bullet ripping skin away.
The wound is as fresh as it ever was.
Forgive me for these words.
I feel that they are too late.
Forgive me for not being there.
Forgive me for them letting your breath slip away.
I am no good at these words.
My hands shake to acoustic guitars melodies.
I hear lyrics and they scare me.
I close my eyes and you are there.
But you aren’t.
Because see sometimes I can barely remember.
You have to realize that I’m just no good at these words.
I am no good at whisper that comes after the intensity.
The murmor the constant murmor of my hearts off track beat.
I dream for stars during the daylight.
Because then I would feel your shine.
You are not the sun.
Because the sun is just one.
You are infinitly gone.
The stars infinitly go on.
Unlike these words.

Slip on a pair of your most comfortable shoes.
Touch a tree.
Snap and crackle a leaf or two.
Light a fire on a night whose chill begs you to go inside.
Stare into flames.
And wonder why.
I can not recover from what I miss.
I can not take back that night.
And I know I will always pay for it.
Hear you in my head.
Curl into myself at night.
These words can not reach you I know.
But please know that I am alright.
When I learn to love the best that I can.
I will never trip over these words again.

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