(revision)

I'm coming home
often in alcohol
sworn at
in church hymns
which lust after us in bedrooms

the postcards i sent
and the poetry I wrote
litter your bathroom
where the razors
and the soap
echo evident emptiness

the person i once knew
writes only songs now
visits my arms like a stranger
never has the intent of coming back

our assimilation
and comprehension
of these augmented
adjacent sounds

is only the apparent behavior
of perversion;
love
and redemption