My Identity

I am a strange stirring in the night, the way you feel when you’ve just awoken from a dream, the tension of your misplaced affection. I am a lopsided smile on your pretty face, the feeling of hands in pockets, an embarrassment of convenience. I am the indifference of our cautious boundaries, the sound of silence between lovers, the limpness of desperate hands which at nothing grasp. I am the slow-drying tear-streaked cheeks of your expression as you nurse your bleeding sorrow with fantasies of its resolution. I am the feeling of you hearing me call your name in the dark, the expectancy of my warm flesh against your pounding heart. I am the memory of a miniature eternity within the confines of your glassy singing orbs, soft, brown, and shimmering in the reflection of the silvery waves. I am the ghost of our promise broken by fierce cruelty of societal mistrust, a fading silhouette of spindly man limbs broken by despair and the pain of separation inevitable wringing the necks of those whose love is forgotten and torn beyond repair.