I spend the day turning your words around in my head.
You are so close, you are in the next room. But you are a thousand clouds away from here, you are running in the sky and I am down here. There are no ladders tall enough, there are no ropes long enough to lasso you down with.  The absence of escalators and elevators and stairs is heavy on my heart.
You are in the next room, but you may as well be in Siberia or else Beijing or Reykjavik. You are gone, you are running to someplace unknown to me.

We are puzzle pieces that do not fit, I say to glowing hazel eyes in the mirror.  You are the puzzle piece that does not fit, I see the girl before me say with determination.

I am looking down at all this mess, and cutting the vessels from my heart so as to staunch the poison from spreading. You see hands that grasp and falter, you see legs that bend and stutter.  You see anguish between the brows. Cutting down the vessels, cauterizing arteries and veins and soon there is no remembrance of love in those hands and legs and brows. There is emptiness, there is nothing.

Soon you are reunited with your body once more and there is nothing.  You breathe without remembering, you do not feel. There is nothing, there is only walking and breathing and blinking.

There is no blood in these veins, there is only the numb that cold brings.

You do not love me. That is all and that is everything.