one thousand deaths
a message in a bottle.
The Death of Marat (1907) by Edvard Munch
every day without you i die one thousand little deaths a missed call, silence from you whose voice i want to hear— need to hear i sit at my window counting the seconds watching the sun rise then set all without you whom i adore i reread conversations replay phone calls and memories the night i told you i was leaving the flash of anger in your eyes your silence afterwards felt like a punishment the night i called you heartbroken said i wanted him back your resolve so unlike you “if your happy, i’m happy” my own words echoed back at me each memory a death our distance a death your silence a death you don’t know but the sound of your voice could bring me to life whisper my name at my grave and watch how i burst through the earth to feel your embrace.