Cartography of Absence

I try to find you in the words that do not pertain to you,

your silence today is a pond where drowned things live—

I try to piece together what was once yours,

your pieces become tangled with mine,

creating a hum of fractured thoughts and broken speech.

I reach for a feeling that no longer exists,

your touch lingers on me like a thought I cannot name—

I miss the way you used to hold me,

your long and twisted roads that became familiar,

tossing me around like I had no say behind the wheel. 

I begin to forget the sound of your voice,

your words blur into the static of passing time—

I trace the outline of what you once were,

your absence pressing softly against my skin,

leaving an imprint I no longer recognize.

I have found a map to a place that is foreign to you,

your feeling fades as I move through uncharted waters—

I reach backward to take you with me, but you are no longer there,

your presence replaced by a shadow,

reminding me of how I once felt in this place.

Now, I walk without looking over my shoulder,

the current no longer pulls me toward you—

the silence ripples, clear and wide,

and I learn the sound of my own voice

as it echoes across the water.