you,

i’m remembering your voice

it’s a painful feeling of digging into places

that need no excavation

thoughts that need no explanation

i’m digging for gold in a coal mine

i thought, maybe, i’d tell you i’d found a way to die

but my words would hang listless on lips -

dead and withered on fingertips

i’m trying to dig my way to you, again

a plastic spoon tied to the end of my wires

i’m tired of fighting for you

my cause is expired and i’m tangled -

twisted in the webs of trying to reach out to you,

trying to reel you in, again,

because i’m selfish on Monday,

lonely on Tuesday,

and the rest of the week is a blur that i’ve not settled on -

yet

i thought i’d tell you i’d found a way to die,

i thought i’d tell you i’d found a way to cry -

to wipe my eyes without noticing the passing of time

but, i’m wasting my time 

dampened by the fog of the morning,

drunk on the dew

as i’m trying so hard

to write myself back home

to you

forever,

me