The 23rd

- Betwixt: Phase II - Poem VII -

How’d our roads turn different ways?

What about the plans we made?

Twenty-three days each month roll by,

And still, I wait beneath our starry sky

Unraveled threads, the seams we tore,

Yet I remember us, curled on the floor

Movie dates, socks and sleepovers, breath and flames,

Whispers in bed, kisses on foreheads, where you mouthed my name

Sacred the hush of dawn’s first sigh,

Messy bed hair, when you were mine

I trace the shape you left behind,

A phantom etched in my heart and mind

Run if you must, baby, through fields and greenery,

When June comes around, I’ll still hold chivalry

I’ll answer you without a word,

Even if my tone shakes like a mockingbird

For each 23rd a requiem plays,

Of tangled limbs and sleepless Saturdays

Even pain can’t hush your chords,

You loved me on days I couldn’t give you a reward

And though you’re gone, I remain,

A tender ache, a notable pain

A knife etched into my back, beneath my skin,

I’d give everything I gained to lie with you again

So if you’re lost and shadows grow,

You’ll always find me there, just so you know

Next to silence, on the verge,

Always waiting—

On the 23rd