The Drone of Memory

I can't see you, but I can hear you.

You're in my hair.

The soft weight of it lies on my shoulders, lightly brushing against my neck.

Tendrils swirl down my back, reaching towards the earth.

You softly breathe me in.

The earth beats with the hum of your smile.

I see your face,

The weathered panes of your cheeks

extending past the curves

that craft

an image I

could never

forget.

all day. all night.

The ache in my chest leaves a raw chasm between my breasts,

the walls smoothed and glistening.

Reflected through the

vibrations

that smother.

I cannot live without the sweet salve

that you

covet.

Caress my maimed

chest.

The pieces drip

past my knees.

Trailing blood, rooting me

to my

hardened gut.