I am screaming
but not loud enough
you are convulsing in the bathtub
while the silky porcelain burns your skin
and the blood pools in your back
I am banging tiny fists against locked door
Calling you back
and begging your distant eyes
to look at me
******* your skin is too cold
and your bones
they have broken
I rap my arms around your hollow body
and sink into the idea of becoming the past

Late at night
On my third wind
I am exactly calm enough
To believe my own thoughts
So to write
A poem,
And exactly nervous enough
To end the poem
Before I ruin it.

Torn from the barrel
bullet shot from the gun.
High velocity
Impact.
Done.