i think i am supposed to tell you i am sorry, but i forget the words. not what they are; how to say them. where the b doesn’t look so pregnant with desire and the i isn’t disconnected from a circle that includes you. there i am, on the outside, a crescent moon birthmark on your neck, trying to see all i couldn’t during the night. there i am, on the inside, the feeling of emptiness where you slept, centered and balanced. there i am, without you, kissing you for the last time, loving you for the last time, saying your name one last time with my hands on your head, my breathe on yours. you are telling me that it doesn’t have to be this way. sunlight dips into my eyes. i think i see arcadia in the fading flint of dust. the walking. the endless food. the skulls reminding me that even in the rain, the dead will weep about those lost to the living. you say something else. then it is quiet and no more words need to be.