I can’t imagine
another sunset
without you.

I cannot fathom
the constant quiet.

Even with music,
even with the onslaught
of traffic and humanity,
all I hear

is the lack
of you.

There is an

of silence

in the place
of your heartbeat.

I remember the taste
of your lips,

the smoke
and the fire.

This absence of


is all that
defines me

Come home.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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0 Responses to Disbelief

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    I’m hoping, Jones, that the smoke and the fire (especially) are homewards bound.

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