d
o
w
n

she goes
falling
and
stabbed
   b    y   her
jagged mistakes
cutting open the skin
and watching the blood
drip
down her
blue skirt
the ground is getting
closer.
She looking toward her painful
future
with
wide open eyes
hands together
nodding
praying for the water to run gold
someone else to grab her away
miracles
are gone
or
never existed

ground

The Two Poems I won't forget:
You read them warmly as if your lips were butterscotch
Looking just beyond your notebook paper.
Reading with the bittersweetness of siren's song
knowing whoever listens will perish
The sounds gracing our ears to enter our hearts.
Your poems of a velvet sofa left by the street
and a matchstick box waiting to be burned.
I will never forget those poems.
Ever.

"I didn't know you were Queer."

What made you think I was straight?