Lugubrious

you know that place?
yeah, that one.
the one that just popped into your head when you read that question aloud.
oh you didn't read it aloud?
well did you not hear yourself reading it in your head?
yeah, that's what I thought.
aloud.
I read it aloud when I wrote it.
but not loud enough for someone to hear.
maybe if I were in that place.
maybe someone would hear.
maybe I would hear.
I have thoughts drowning out thoughts that are already collapsing thoughts.
would you like to know one?
I'd like you to know one.
but you don't know.
even when I'm SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS.
you can't hear me.
so, I never opened my mouth, so what?
yeah, you're right, I don't want you hearing me all the time.
but I don't know how much louder I can scream.
I wonder if you can hear me when I tell you this is the place.
you know, that place.
can you hear me now?
I'm laying in my recliner.
this is where I'm sleeping tonight.
but everytime I close my eyes, I can feel your body.
your body somewhat awkwardly, yet very comfortably with mine.
touching mine.
holding mine.
I can feel your breathing.
I'm in rhythm with your body, in taking the gas we need for life processing it, using it and disposing of all you don't need.
I can feel your fingers.
intertwined with mine.
your hands.
so unique.
complex.
familiar.
creating that heat.
the heat that's actually comforting.
the heat that makes me smile to myself.
I can feel all of your body.
transferring it's heat to mine.
so cold and fragile.
I can see your smile.
that alone takes me to that place.
you know, that place.
yeah, that one.
I see all that.
but not really.
complete and total illusion.
but a memory nonetheless.
a memory that plays over and over and over again in my head.
one that I can't manage to get out of my head for the life of me.
one that is simply strengthened every single time my body is sunken into the soft, comforting leather of this recliner.
that damn place.
my damn recliner.
my damn head.
your damn words.
can you hear me now?


J.