finding myself 
following your footsteps 
in a much different way 
than i would rather 
i cradle the plastic skeleton 
between my hand and my chest 
instead of you 

sucking down all i can 
in an attempt to send me 
into my own oblivion 
i want to be able 
to escape the incessant thought of you 
the way you escape thoughts of me 

each taste stings me 
almost as bitterly 
as the memory of the taste 
of your lips 
the difference 
is that i acquire a forgetfulness 
in this state 
but never in the absence of you 

my hands no longer shaking 
i have displaced my frustration 
until i turn off the lights 
involuntarily looking 
to the photograph above my bed