Wheels Rolling Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

Wanting you.

It grows like an open wound
that bleeds onto the skin.

Watching you.

Knowing that you are
not caring what I see.

You celebrate your freedom.
In a thousand different ways
you cut the strings
that once bound us together.

Missing you.

The tangled sheets in the morning.
The whispered sharing of
our intentions.

Our unity measured by
the cups of sugar we
poured into our veins.

Rendering.

The long time ago sort of world
that belonged to us.

Knowing now.

That you do not care to relive
those special memories.

Wanting you.

It feels like a nightmare that has
become a reality stone.

Nothing left.

Your mind is closed.
Mine is anticipating.

Re-inventing the wheel.

Let it roll over me.

Death.

A word.
A statement.

It is what you express to me.

We have died.

You remain living.

I am withering like
a
vine in the storms of winter.


Undone.

The words escape me

before I remember you

do not care to hear them anymore.