500

This is my 500th post. It seems momentous somehow, like I’ve met some sort of imaginary milestone. When I saw that 499, I thought, “the next one better be good. Really good.” Why would I think that? I’m sure there are plenty of people with many more posts, much more to say, so why should this one be any different than any of my last ones? I don’t know. I wish I could say that it will be my last. Or at least my last on this worn-out subject, but I don’t lie to my readers. He is as with me as he has been
from the first time he touched me.
I will bleed for him,
my memoirs of madness
spilling swollen love
onto these pages.
Ripe with longing for ghosts
and memories,
I will cover the world
with ink
if it will only get you
to listen.
I will think of you
on hot car rides
and when I hear
the steely notes of a guitar,
and I will scratch your name
on the sky
so that the earth
may worship
your beauty as I do.
I will never run out
of words
because every molecule
of my being
is crafted
from letters of my love for you.
As much as I want it to,
as much as it should,
it will never end.
You have seared me
into ashes
that will forever create stories
of your rough laughter,
your kind smile,
your quick wit.
I will never stop searching
for that constellation of stars
you took from the sky
and placed over your heart. This is my 500th post and I wonder if it will make a difference? Will you somehow hear my voice in the darkness and finally answer back? Probably no, so what does it matter? At least I have a voice to scream with. Your silence debilitates and cripples and hardens your heart into something that can no longer hear. So here is my 500th post and I wonder if my words have changed anything at all?

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