numb

i think of you. i think about you most of the time. yet, sometimes, i don't. and those "sometimes" are when i am distracted by the intricacies of life. they are those scattered rays of light that elude the cave walls, flowers that color the desert, poems buried in a thick atlas. they are god's gift to me and i am blessed with quietude.

for when i do think of you, a war is waged inside of me. each feelings grapple with another. the wounds are all mine. the blood is all mine. the deaths are all mine. so each time i think of you, i deal with a thousand wounds, a rain of blood and a million deaths. inside me. where no one can see. no one. not even you. and you probably go on enduring your life not knowing that someone is wounded, someone is bleeding, someone is dying because of you.

imagine if i do think of you all the time. well, maybe i did or i've gotten used to it.