Shadow Letters

i have to keep these thoughts folded neatly at the
back of my mind -
letters catalogued carefully
according to length and
size; so that they
don't speak
for themselves.

i miss you even though i
never bring up your name, never so much as
mention it sideways in a casual conversation -
like a discreet postscript included
lightly to append
unspoken words.

you are a sickness that my cells have
grown accustomed to - yellowed bruises
that speckle the page of
lined paper; a stale ache
that one forgets
from time to time.

and i am lost in myself - trying to
untangle my thoughts away from the
strange connotations you impose;
scripts with
broken metaphors,
empty settings with
wordless characters.

you always linger
in the perimeters of my wits
(an emblem, highlighted among a
sea of black alphabets)
while i sit on the edge,
(a speck on the page)
tumbling off your radar -

so i will crawl in and linger at the
peripheral brink, grateful to meld into the
shadows
against your light.