6-teen Months

I haven't seen you in sixteen months,

and haven't heard your voice in two.

That should be okay

because we have gone by for longer

with no talking, touching or telling.

But the other day while picking milk

at the local store

I panicked.

What if I die, I thought.

What if you die.

What if I die and you never know,

or what if you die and no one tells me.

And fro somewhere was this

renewed urge to reach out to you,

to hear your voice,

to see you again,

to touch your hand,

to hold your face,

to smell you.

I run all the way back home,

dial your number.

(Of course I still kept it).

But you won't answer,

and I won't give up.

So I call again and again.

And every time the same voice says

"The number you are trying to reach does not exist".

But what if you die, I want to say.

What if I die.

What if we both die.

Just once, I want to plead, just once

please pick up.

Let me see you, let me touch you.

Let me hear you, let me feel you.

Just once.

And then I remember

(after the panic subsides of course).

I already died when I killed you.