Once and Again.

Starting off with a bang- this world has been turned on its ear, is lying flat, listening to the thumping sounds of the earth. What's coming? Distant vibrations and foreign clouds of dust lead me nowhere, really, just back to you, wherever that is. The sky is billowing after the fires it embraced the night before. I haven't written since I taught myself to forget you, and now your face is seared into the darkness of my cold garden, like you were there all along. After we spoke ourselves hoarse, my fingers are seizing with the unsaid. I slept three hours last night, and then dreamt of your face, white as bone and much warmer than before. I don't understand, and never have.