Somehow, we speak
telepathically.

And also with my voice when I’m alone.

Our shadow selves,
the unseeable,
were created stitched at the seams
in union,

ever since 1996 when
you began to blossom in me,
and probably even before.

Threads of our unified veins run through
these celestial selves.

Because I can’t see your body
or hear your voice

I feel our joint spirit
has been abruptly and violently severed.

The part that is just me was left behind,
tattered, bloodied, mutilated, afflicted-
its pulse is slow, weak.

My body aims to rehabilitate it,
bring it back to full existence, but
it is angling towards the sun
and beyond,

Towards where
the part that is just you now lives.

I’m trapped here, claustrophobic,
asphyxiated.

Every day another strand of me is
plucked

I frantically beg God all night
to take what is me and reunite it with you.

Our secret is this: no one but you and I know
of how frenzied
our need to be stitched together again.

It is my round-the-clock plea.