Talking Head

I sing in the shower & sometimes

Your voice trails behind mine

In echoing stains on the bathroom tile

As I crunch into my body

Folding my bones into Your embrace

The birds scream Your name every morning

As You scrape through the clouds

Forgetting the soft remnants of the evening: 

I trace Your name in my window

As my fingers turn crimson-purple

I bleed into the memory of Your 

Face; Your trapezoid eyes,

The dent You left by my bones, the

Hill of my thighs 

The way Your teeth used to 

Crookedly dance with each other

While You slept 

You're gone now but my veins

Stick out like electric pulses weaved

In & out of living

My fingers tingle like the TV static

But my breath stales: I lost the voice

That used to call out to You

And I miss You. I miss You as I croak ashira.