A hand

in the distance

turn your head

you can see it

I know you can see it

you can see something

or is it just the reflection

in the mirror that binds you?

You can see me

or at least feel it,

somewhere in your bones

your heart skips three beats

light-headed now

but you can see me,

can't you?

Anxiety

can you see me?

I could have sworn you

winked

blinked

stopped

stared.

Can't you see me,

or feel,

well, anything

for me?

The deperation takes me by the throat,

raw, yellowed, finger nails shake into

dirty, exposed flesh

re-opening old wounds

or emptiness and bitterness,

directed at no on in particular.

I remember this,

I would beg you all over again

just for a taste of your conversation.

A fleeting surface talk,

of nothing important,

or to have you open me up – 

we could releases some demons together,

chooe which to keep

and which to kill,

maybe we could kill each other,

or learn how to hold

and keep

love.

Please,

open me up.