The Fabrication of Soundlessness

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Her body would never be mine,

I turned blind and inward.

I dreamed of possession and

She’d never run away from me.

I created ghosts. Through my hands.

My whispers. My imagination.

I erected her and demolished her.

 

I called it devotion. Love.

Alteration. Sorrow. Obsession.

I escaped. Everything was left unsaid.

Our rivalry existed merely in our thoughts.

Our actions outside of each other.

And I heard you ache and cry from the cracked

Spines of streets and rooftops engulfed by smog.

 

I apprehended your voice behind my back

And I forgot all the meanings of our words.

I buried you with your mouth gasping for air.

I tried to kiss it to conclude our story, but I

Feared the endlessness within you, the absorbing energy.

I smashed against your body so many times I

Had no feeling left in mine, no language, no joy.

 

Your misery had to be greater, had to outgrow

Everything inflamed. I became rust within

Your throat, your embrace, your suffering voice.

We couldn’t get stuck together in the mud.

I repressed all the violence, the guilt, the marks left

On my body to soothe you, listen to you, hold onto you,

Knowing that I was the one who marched straight back to hell.

800px-Leo_Putz_Blond_und_Brünett_c1913

Blond und Brünett” by Leo Putz (1869-1940)

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