i.
world is spinning
and everything is so quiet,
so deafening in all
this silence
(i just want to go away)
(there’s so much to say)
(there’s so much to do)
(there’s so much to think about)
(i miss you)
ii.
my voice stretches thin
along this space, this
aching, moaning space
between you and i,
and all these other voices,
they cloud my head—
they say, “break here,”
“space there,” “let your voice”
“split the skies,” and i’m so
tired, so tired i might cry—
my voice bounces once, twice,
along the ground, shakes
no one but me to the floor,
and it says, “I’M TIRED,” says,
“CAN’T YOU HEAR,” asks,
“I’M ALIVE, DON’T YOU KNOW?”
and i whisper back that i don’t.
i whisper back that i am afraid.
i whisper and i look you in the eye,
hold the absent gaze residing there,
and i ask if you, too, don’t know
that i am
alive