my ears muster only the skeleton of your voice,
a hollow memory traipsing its legs over a joyful moment,
its recalcitrant grasp shackling me in high tides of self-loathing & worthlessness.
how is it you are with me everywhere,
tripping on the heels of my shadow,
each stride casting stones at the ruins of this temple?
in others, I seek you invariably,
like the thunder borne of the strike
& as with the falling rain,
my heart so splatters when I find you are not there
nor will you ever be.