your shadow.

By kellibean

I try on your shadow, since you’re not around. I peel it off the floor where it hovers quietly, and pull it over my head like an old sweater. And it feels soft and right and adjustable, the way it felt to lay on the futon under some thick black blanket with your palms warm and smooth on my back. But your shadow is darker, and along with the warmth, having it pulled around my body offers the strange, sad tension of saying goodbye to you in front of my door: the kiss to my forehead, the dissatisfaction and emptiness felt as I watched you lope down the stairs without looking back at me…

I hide in your shadow, because it is less dark than the spider-webbed corners you’ve left in my heart. Your voice is already gone. And oh, I long to hear your voice. It is low and throaty and sounded so good when it trembled beside my ear as rain pounded the window beside your bed. Your face is already gone. The coffee color of your eyes, the gentle slope of your nose, the fullness of your lips and the small scar where the lip ring used to be. I'd get so close to that face that my eyes would cross with unintentional wonderment. Your smile is already gone, as fleeting and secret as it was to begin with. And you. You are almost gone. You are the last drop of dew left dangling shakily on the dry leaf.

You fall, and so do I.

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your shadow.

Created: Jan 30, 2010

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