Between the words

I can hardly read a book

without finding you

between the words,

between the worlds

of fantasy and fiction.

were you ever really here?

the silence between the chords

of the songs you adored.

I’m trapped here, in the reverberating air,

hoping you’ll echo into existence.

the pencil twists in the old cassette

turning back space, turning back time.

parity is broken, but clarity conserved.

I see exactly how we got here,

yet cannot see where we’re headed.

where we’re headed.

we.

we?

you, I, us, me.

her, him, them, he.

one, one, two, one.

a recurring zero to infinity.

I asymptote closer to forgetting you,

a neon sign in the rainy distance

as I drive away.

nothing but silence, and the sound of rain.

that’s juxtoposition right? Maybe irony?

I can hardly focus

on the words,

without finding you

in between.