Poem: I don't watch you

This is the first time I've sat down and said, "I'm gonna write a poem," in years. Catherine and her entourage are a bad influence on me. As if I don't have enough directions to be split into.

I don't watch you.
Your granite eyes
. scrutinize me blindly,
. finding fault in the empty air.
Your pain so deep--
smashing your soul
. to a smoky powder:
. a stone crushed by the hand of God.
I can't see you.
Your words whirlpool--
. sucks my spirit away
. and turns my brain into black mud.

. [Rest is impossible.
. Awareness is as well.]

I can't find you.
Eyes scratchy, sand
. in their bony sockets
. wishing away the shell that you left.
You are safe, just.
Only because
. your broken, injured flesh
. can't convey you too close to the knives.
. (the pokeys in the plan)

I don't watch you
for you're not there.

Only your black shell
which I must love
for it’s all that remains of you.