You penetrated me with everything that is you,
infecting me with your genuineness ,
transmitting me with your quick wit and
while your creativity seeped through my pores,
reality emulsified anticipating your departure.
I wrapped my arms around you and
when you returned my hug I felt you falling apart,
naively hoping that if I squeezed hard enough I'd put you back together...
suffocation wasn't intentional.
Now you're so far away,
and I stir on the question of whether I should drink your words in concentrate form
or whether they are subconsciously watered down with other words.
"You are amazing" likely dissipates to "You are an amazing writer."
I am a pessimist in an optimist's warm coat
and I'm tired of playing scrabble out here in the cold
because empty words are no longer in my vocabulary
and I haven't been whole in weeks now.