Your Voice

There is a space here that
your body use to fill.

I paint you in the nothing
that is left behind,
the nothing that whispers
to me, screams to me.

And sometimes I think
it is your voice that
calls to me with words I can’t
see, that blows through the grasses

around my feet, that
fragments in my chest-
burns. As if it is you
telling me to act,

to move, to speak. As if
it is you pulling
at my heart and the tears
I choke on. As if

it is you writing this now

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