I look for you beneath my fingernails sometimes,
Seeing if somehow there’s anything left of you.
I search frantically,
Scraping and clawing beneath them.
I don’t know what I expect,
The only thing I ever find is blood.
In the bathtub the dead skin upon my fingertips bulges.
I peel it away in futility hoping to find you inside,
Watching the pieces drift in disappointment within the waters that never seem to be warm enough.
In the dead of night I search within my sheets for you,
Running my fingers across the silk surface until they are raw.
I search until my eyes cannot remain open,
Slipping away into the darkness that they call sleep,
And then I search within my dreams.
But you aren’t beneath my fingernails,
You aren’t within my skin,
You aren’t within the sheets,
And you aren’t within my dreams.
It doesn’t matter if you were here,
Now you aren’t.
You never are.
I guess I’ll just keep looking.