I tried not to wince
as she waved her claws
at me through the window seperating us.
I thought,
don't dare think that I don't care,
as I contorted my face into what I
hoped would seem a smile
as my body yearned to rip something.
I wondered if you could read my expression
from where you sat
and what you said to each other
out of earshot.
The passion is still there,
and it doesn't know what form to take.
You've never really seen me
scream and cry
or roll on the floor with laughter.
Anything similar you have almost
forgotten.
I can't tell you the things I wish you knew.
It's almost funny how I now want
what your whisper
used to suggest in my ear.
It's so old how I can
still taste you.
My whirlwind mind can't sort out
the memories as I look for symbols
that aren't there.
