There are these weird in-between places. Every piece of punctuation is a question mark bounced against my eardrums, distorting the meaning of our reverberating words and sentences until I'm not sure what you or her or I ever meant.
"I love you?"
I feel things slipping away, all the colors running, everything sliding down into the space that surrounds my shrinking, grey, floating island. And I just sit here cross-legged or with my knees drawn up to my chest, humming to the interrogative beat still playing at my eardrums.
"I care?"
If I let it all fall, I know I can never get anything back. This will go away, if I just keep humming.
"I miss them?"
If I reach out and grasp at something, it could slip from my fingers all the same.
"I should at least try?"
If I caught hold of one fragment or shard or cupped handful of violet, cerulean, mahogany...
Well, I'm not sure what would happen.
Can you paint the in-between places? Could we rebuild from here?
I would like to be happy. Forever, please.
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