voice through the telephone

voice through the telephone

words on a screen

whispers in the dark

i remember you told me once:

“i don’t think i’ve ever not missed you”

i told you we should go get lost

i have this ocean in my chest and i cross it

every other night to find you

to keep you

to split myself in half so you have safe passage

i collect your words and i save them for winter

i carry your pixelated shadow with me even in the daytime

i have all these broken things for you and i don’t know what to do with them

where is the treasure trove of disrepair

where is the garden of unmaking

bite into the apple

i will lick the juice from your lips

i will consume your sorrow like crashing waves do the shoreline

i am ravenous for the things that you have yet to name

–kopano maroga

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