i am standing...

whisper to the wall

as i wither, wither, wither.

and i wallow in the sound of footsteps walking away.

with my face pressed tight against this cold, crisp wall.

i can hear your heart...beating.

beating.

beating.

batting me down

below the barren bones

my body pulses.

picking just this poignant place

pretending to prepare for

perception.

pregnancy pauses alone and pressed against the wall.

this face, this cheek

this pelvis collapsed against everything.

i mold to it... to this wall and to you.

it is my anchor and you are fleeting,

as are my memories of emptiness.

they are forgotten

easily.

there is no wall.

i am standing... always.