april // a wild thing inside the heart (absence) (not like this)

i.

i feel your hands

coming from my own,

even as they

touch my face (and linger there),

feel you like an

absence, like an

echo, like a

mem’ry, and

you’ve been gone and you’re gone and you’re

going.

you are going

so much.

ii.

—the kind of empty

that pulses through your chest,

aching,

echoing through all the

empty spaces—

iii.

and i miss you like

growing up

(growing out of people)

(things and music and loves)

(books and smiles and)

(people)

and i miss you like

growing old

(memories barely there, anymore)

(the love still strong, but like an)

(echo)

(i’m not quite all here)

iv.

how have you been doing? they ask.

i’ve been thirty-seven days with zero beads, i want to say.

i’ve been hungry and i haven’t eaten in hours, i want to say.

i’ve been feeling so empty and i can’t fill myself back up, i want to say.

i can’t stop seeing accidents in front of my eyes, i want to say.

i can’t stop envisioning death, i want to say.

i can’t stop i can’t stop i can’t stop, i want to say.

just a little tired, i say.

v.

i hope you all got some rest and recharged this weekend, my teacher says.

i grin across the room to the other students,

as if this secret we’re all in on

is a good one to keep—as if it’s

something to be proud of,

to have so many sleepless nights

and early mornings.

vi.

these voices in my head

trap themselves in the crevices of

my mind—they come out to play,

preying on the weaknesses,

until i cover my ears with my

hands and close my eyes, shout

as loud as i can, “SHUT UP,

SHUT UP, SHUT UP!”

and i hold off the tears,

fold my heart back into my chest,

and say, “IT’S FINE IT’S FINE IT’S FINE I’M OKAY, YOU KNOW?

CAN’T YOU SEE I’M FINE, I’M SO

FINE, I’M DOING SO WONDERFUL!”

(i forget not to yell)