NEVER IN YOU

Never in you, the quiet clock that ticks the hours I forget to walk. Never in you, the door unhinged, the hall where echoes come unhinged. Never in you, the cup I fill with rain that bends against my sill. Never in you, the thread I spun from wool of shadows, one by one. Never in you, the ink I bleed to spell a name I cannot read. Never in you, the glass I break to find the shape I could not make. Never in you, the star I pressed against my ribs to ease my chest. Never in you, the stone I turned the side that burned, the side that yearned. Never in you, my tongue of tin, my walls of skin, my entering in. Never in you, the weight I bore that asked for nothing, and asked for more. So I will take my never back the crooked spine, the faded track and wear it like a borrowed coat, with never in you still stuck in my throat.