Let the metaphors speak my heart out,
because I can’t.

It’s been a while since I have been to the shore,
calmly losing my sense of wonder
the water has dried out — all that remains is
dirt.

I have stopped picking up the telephone, 
my hands are as cold as yours
cannot mould the thick ice
in standing sun.

Cannot recognize your eyes in
dimmed lights
you danced till the music stopped
you stopped coming back in the night

I have replaced my morning coffee
with malt
this is not the poem you wanted from me
i will destroy it
before the dawn.