The Girl's Nobody
Poem By Chloe Meakin
One gentle foot at a time,
he walked barefoot across the floor that is my life.
Things on the surfaces rattled.
Teacups against their saucers,
saucers against their trays.
One gentle word at a time,
he spoke delicate tones into the air around my life.
Soundwaves buzzed the air.
Buzzed the bones in my head,
squeezed the breath from my lips. Stolen.
One gentle finger at a time,
he took hold of the hand that is my life.
A tickle above my pulsebeat,
the pulse beneath my skin. His skin.
Now a car comes by. The vibration of its passing feels like him.
A migraine forms, not far off. The throb of it feels like him.
People chatter. The clatter of their distant conversation feels like him.
Now he is the feeling of a ghost in the room.
He is the smoothing of a beach by tidewater in the middle of the night.
I am quiet. I can listen.
I can love the secret life of the things we never speak.