la porta e chiusa.

lately, when i look in the mirror, i see only a woman
you love but never touch... hair falls like 5 am across my face,
my fingers trace thick sheets of glass contorted and transformed
to hold the tea i've been drinking -
           to replace the presence of yer lips,
           to replenish the grey skies of my skin,
           to fill the trenches of this distance between us...

i am (breathing slowly and) settling into an empty bed,
my body broken - begging for five seconds of something
you may never be able to give...

i'm not going anywhere, i say...

leafing thru sleeves, searching for excuses,
but i've checked - and there are no songs for this.