Rough Drafts

It felt like taking off my own skin
And then walking around with every delicate,
Tender and fragile inch of what was inside,
Exposed to the elements,
Nothing left to hold me in.
Nothing to ever fit like that, that well, again.

It felt like someone pried open the soft shell around my heart
Just enough to that the thick, liquid contents
Could seep out slowly, slowly…
Weighing down my insides and drowning the small,
Fluttering wings that used to alight below it,
And I have no way to reach in and seal the gap.

It felt like a thick scab removed gradually
So that each separate cell ripping from the wound
Made its own sharp outcry,
As I let you go while still holding you in my arms
Cried tears for you with the smile still warm on my lips
Said goodbye as I walk toward you, hands outstretched.

And I’m finding holes in everything.
Cracks in the ground I walk on…
Gaps in the walls around me…
Pockets of empty space in midair,
And each time I find them, I shake my head miserably
Because I hadn’t even known you were in all those spaces
Until you weren’t anymore.

And the drafts are bitter cold.