::04:11:09::

::: “When you were mine…” [Images] :::

“When you were mine…”
The words echo, hollowed by this empty space. I think of the hurt I have caused you, yet and still to come. The guilt that grinds like cracked teeth, yellowed with time. It was this absence, still is- the kind that separates, divides and contains; a dancing lasso. It’s as if our hurtful words are all that can penetrate. [Physicality] They seep silenced, saturating, suffocating, our uniqueness so we feel alive, hurting…attached to the present in a head-on crash of nouns/expectations.

I never meant to hurt you and you’re probably right. It was always this space. The same kind created by mirrors and closed eyes, where the only presence (awareness) is my own. It is touch we can’t feel, not that you didn’t try; we are untouchable. Able only to touch the warmth of the space once occupied- though touch/sensation is a lie, created to deny our loneliness; a belief to sanctify a need. Warmth generated to justify our outreaching limb. Manufacturing suspense to solidify hope: Imagination!
To say I was never there, that I never really existed as your perception, doesn’t console your pain, I know. To you I was real, but as me(s) I have never been. Everyone owns me…at least the me they invented – and those are their fictions as yours are yours. I’m not blaming you, we all do it- make nouns of the verbs (records of actions) [Plasticity]; We must exist.

Please accept my apologies, for never being there and conscious of this consciousness. I am too liquid to be an image.

Written by: ~ Jeremiah D. Reeves