Together we wither.
Desperate dysfunctional symbiosis.
Roots wreathe mutual asphyxiation
But we bloom brief, bright
Our small deaths assure me that I’m alive.
No unit of time captures precisely enough;
No combination of words adequately conveys:
The severity of my missing you,
The richness of my love.
Welcome yourself to Yesvember.
Accept one month of possibilities
Knowing that success is in trusting yourself.
So many worlds can be built in thirty days.
I clutch hard.
Wet eyes bulge wide.
I suffocate. I drown.
Culprit and victim.
Every single time.
Teeth clench cold hard air
Nature elicits reflex;
Bodies aware, minds elsewhere.
Sitting on drafts.
Long-necked, leggy and awkward.
Giving way to flocculent notions.
Let prehensile tongues masticate
The roughage of verdant words.
Open-mouthed and wet.
Gulping and heaving.
A suffocating realisation
That you may never possess the capacity
To differentiate my laughter from my sobs.