The Elusive Noun

It was the word for the ending.

The film, you know, the one

where she leaves him.

And I tried to describe

how I felt about it,

her choice,

the absolute finality.

And it was right there.

On the tip of my tongue.

Like a bead of sweat

about to fall,

but it just wouldn't.

It hung there,

a phantom taste,

a shape my mouth remembered

but couldn't form.

Three days now.

Every time I think of it,

my tongue feels thick,

heavy,

useless.

A whole apartment

of meaning,

locked behind a door

with no key.

Just the echo

of a sound

that never was.