I'm. still. yours.

I’m walking down a lightless path.
I see your silhouette ahead of me,
darker than the black that surrounds us, I can just make out the shape.
You’re distant, your eyes are blank, and you’re anywhere but with me.
I don’t think you see me at all, but I’m here.
There are many shoeprints on this beaten track and all belong to you.
Now mine are imprinted in the dust next to yours.
How many times have you paced the length of this lonely route?
Don’t you know you aren’t alone now?

My fingers are stiff, lacking the warmth of yours to lace through them.
In an attempt to give you space, so you won’t push me away, I’ll stay a few feet behind.
And follow in your trail so I don’t get lost in the dark.
Tightening the band marked self control.
Push the button labeled ‘patience’
and continue on whatever path you take.
Tie a string around my finger in order to remind myself to swallow
the things I’d really like to say.

Waiting for the time when you will realize that I’m still alive.
And will give me the time of day.
For when you’ll reach back and take my hand, if only for a little while.
Waiting for the whispered words, “I need you now.”
Waiting for the shadow to pause and turn, with a look of surprise,
“You’re still here with me?”
I’ll shrug and softly say like it doesn’t matter at all,
“I never left; I’ve been here all along.”