Writing letters to the ghost of your face in my window never helped.
My pencil was sharp enough to kill a man
But I stabbed books on the shelves.
I carved harsh words into the rocks hiding at the deep end,
Wishing I could take a jab at you instead,
Just to let go of this empty feeling.
My starving mind exhumed the memories and made me look
As the skeletons of our love faded,
Turned into thieves and crooks.
But maybe evaporation’s more beautiful than combustion,
And not all the history’s greatest heartbreaks
End in a crime of passion.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 