remember when: a wandering

remember the nights when we were just like this
and i couldn't breath from holding my breath in my chest
beating like a drum like a rain dance like clapping thunderclouds
and no rain came
remember the nights that you never told me about
and i sat in the dark
the rug sparking around my feet like a tiny storm of commets
falling in the blackness behind my open eyes
and i sat
remember the nights when i called and left messages
that you never heard under the clamor
of voices and promises and tipping chins and screams
that i could not give voice to
in thirty seconds after a mechanical beep
so i said nothing
remember the nights when i waited and waited for the shower
and heat mixed with cold pounding drops
on my back and my knotted head of hair from shaking my head
no over and over in your eyes in my head
but i meant it
remember the nights like a spilled glass of water
i slipped from myself spilled out myself on the floor
unvacuumed for weeks, the dust settling in the emptiness
of your voice and
oh so many
poems about emptiness
and shit that happens
but really doesn't
but it feels like it
happens
and hurt this much
i'm exaggerating for no reason
except for to give reason
to the sick i feel
growing like a
living, breathing
lump
in my large intestines
and any other organs
that i can remember from
middle school.