(words.)

Tonight, I write on a blank page—

No lines, no margins

With a marker not meant for writing words

     (too thick, too yellow, too old, crusty, dry)

I write too quickly to be legible

in a shorthand I invented in the moment

and have probably already forgotten

Because now,

NOW

ALL THE WORDS are coming,

all the words at once,

and I realize I just forgot a letter in my haste

to pour onto the page

and fill the space with the words my heart has been trying to find

to speak

to write

for years but...
forgot.

When you left, you left a space

A space in my heart, yes,

but a space, too,

in my belly

my gut

my womb

and apparently my brain

as it fought to collect all the words about you

and banish them, 
purge them, 
from me.

I never really could decide if I should fill the void

with any and every desperate “thing”

or if I should empty myself further

of the shame

regret

envy

HATE

hurt

and love

that I’ve always felt towards you.

So, I suppose it’s no wonder my words hid

in panic

and fear

of the Unnamable

that has so many names apart

but none

for the space where they collide

in me

for you.

It’s been four years

     (and I keep editing that line in my mind

     as time

     ticks

     away)

and you

remain

in place of words

that make sense together

it’s been almost five years

and sometimes I can string together one or two

before the rest

get scared

and run

and hide

it’s been five years

and I am still searching

for my words.