I’m a little worried that I may have lost something not too long ago. Something I fear I may never get back. Although it’s slowly reappearing. It temporarily comes and goes. It taps on my shoulder and repeats lyrics in my ears and taps rhythms on my legs, then as I turn she’s no longer there. It’s annoyingly frustrating and I tend to ignore it.

One day I imagine myself capturing her, tying her down and screaming loudly in her face to get her to stop. I want her to listen not just hear me. I want her to understand and believe me.

Back when I cared, even dared to speak her name, she would ravish her belongings and become stranded. She owned her surroundings but the air refused to cooperate. They never much cared for each other. Both believed they could exist without the other. Both are wrong. Air must be swallowed, gasped for, yearned, embellished.

There’s nothing she left untouched. Yet everything she remembered was destroyed.

Her eyes leapt out of their canvas, with nothing left to comfort them, they rebelled and began to inform all of the lies she told. It didn’t make sense. Was it an attack for no longer having a place to call home or where they simply fed up with the location. It never felt like it had any meaning.

All of this may simply be my imagining, yet I still worry that I may never get that time back, however I once believed blood was fake. Now that I’m bleeding, I accept the idea that I may not get it back, but giving up is a contradiction to what she always taught me. I’m not paralyzed, I’m only bleeding, but even paralyzed I’d stand for nothing if nothing were for my enjoyment.