years ago

So close my skin is pinpricks on hot coal,
I am aware of every inch of myself with a brutal honesty.
In the palm of my hand I hold out my thoughts,
she reads between the lines, doesn’t really care for what she sees.
My name two swift syllables from her mouth
crashing into me, every time.
Her name two swift syllables in my mind
poignant poetry I still hold inside.
Her eyes rest on me silently from across the room
My words unsaid catch in my throat;
they burn the insides of my cheeks and turn them
crimson red, my eyes burn, I close them quietly.
We read each other inside and out,
Secret confessions in the dark never repeated in the light.
Her voice in my ears on a school night,
I hold the sound in my fist so tight my bones creak;
I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever hear the same
string of soft, slurred sentences again,
same intonations, vulnerability, from anyone.
I know this will end, I know it never truly began.
Even now I try to remember how her laughter used to sound like at 3 am,
and how back then even when we were hours away I had just wanted to know her thoughts on
something mundane I saw earlier that day.