Photo Credit: Melissa Wittnebert
It caught me off guard, like always.
My eyes glide across pavement-
looking neither for nor at anything.
Then I notice the shadows.
Leafy growth reaching
from behind the fence
of an abandoned lot.
Sharp and vibrant;
they make their presence known.
Distinct from the shadows they cast
a month, a week
or even days ago.
Late summer shadows.
It falls all around me:
the birds sing differently, the breeze
a touch cooler.
Fall’s inaudible whisper in my ear.
Thoughts I wave away-
let these hazy green
days last a little longer.
I’ve given away too many books.
Pieces of my past, parts of flesh;
I’ll take good care, they say
and promise to return, but
one by one they disappeared.
Decaying memories of who and when;
my history is no longer mine.
Rough hands fondle weathered pages,
marked and folded by lovers.
Each empty space on my shelf, ghosts of
Those hands, eyes and lips
exploring new skin, spines uncracked.
Mine is a story you read once and return, gently used.
These are the pangs of loneliness:
The absence of his body heat next to me,
a cold hand swinging by my side before
I thrust it into my coat pocket
without his fingers
intertwined with mine.
Lonely, but never alone.
Pieces of me shed when I moved;
changed skin with each new moon.
As the days go by with no drift wood to cling to,
parts that I lost begin to grow back.
Alone, but not lonely.
I will not settle for less than a feeling with depth,
My eyes trained to detect fraudulent courtship.
I knew the warmth of your hand in mine was real.
"Melissa is a day dreaming, corny joke making, and passionate feminist. She studied psychology at The New School in NYC, where she graduated. She is especially drawn to dark, sad, creepy, and erotic art and writing. She hopes to someday build a website featuring art, writing, and social justice issues and collaborate with other creative individuals. She posts her writing on melisskwitt.wordpress.com and art/photography and other mumbo jumbo on Instagram @meliss_witt"