There was honking outside,
rare, but reminiscent
of other more vocal towns.
There was an image inside
of what you could see
in such a place.
There were footsteps and barking,
the sounds of my silence;
there was me nodding and moving,
if only for the sake of motion.
There is this never-ending floor
and you somewhere dying -
- are you breathing still?
There is this scar, refusing to heal,
itching like an absence...
If I hold my breath, would you feel it?
If I hold still, would anybody notice?
Somewhere else, something else,
If I leave this unfinished,
(Originally posted on November 21, 2011)