one who once knew your every curve
who would lie beside you and
try not to breathe
for fear of waking you
who would hold your lithe body against mine
who loved you.
now i am cut by your words
instead of a blade
i am the one who stares at you, numbly
when you look into my face
and you don't say a goddamn thing
when we once talked in the language of blood,
pain and tears.
your pictures, i stare at
out of the corners of my eyes
memories i did not make, merely borrowed
from the photograph albums of friends i perused,
hoping to see your beautiful face,
and averting my eyes in sorrow
when i saw your smile.