53

Taken from men—this morning—
Carried by men today—
Met by the Gods with banners—
Who marshalled her away—

One little maid—from playmates—
One little mind from school—
There must be guests in Eden—
All the rooms are full—

Far—as the East from Even—
Dim—as the border star—
Courtiers quaint, in Kingdoms
Our departed are.

this: when your stomach
                                     hurts,
and you can't remember why you were ever happy and
           nothing is really even important,
                           especially yourself;
and you just sleep because you can't cope
                                                 and the sky is so beautiful,
but you can't feel sun dripping on your skin,
         and your bones are numb with electricity,
                             but it's just rubber,
               and you can't do anything,
ANYTHING.
           anything, because you're you and nobody else can be you,
       and the world is there to look at, so full of pretty things,
but, why look?

and it doesn't matter if there's somebody or nobody
                                                                or everybody, by your side,
because it's just this permanent moment
                           when the sharpness in your body is a droplet:
           it hits the ground and wrenches itself into shapes,
         patterns that coalesce,
      you are enraptured, the sight is burning
    into your retinas the emptiness that is
being.
   the glacier that is your soul tills white light and branches out,
      this creature that is cold and full,
               folly with soft ears and sharp teeth.

                             *****
                 patches of grass
         the birds are landing in your branches now
       congregational hazards
     social anxiety
       disillusioned, giving in
  but you don't mind the rest, there's only:
-you're on earth, and
-she's a star, and

stellar beings never come closer.

not for a moment.
they enjoy all views, from afar;
             witness your retching in a
          sad spectrum slideshow
       the bile spills out, tumbling
       across the sidewalk made
     out of her tied veins
   she is no god
we are free
   be empty
listlessly dragging stones
be empty

Bitter winter winds have broken
into biting rains - it's soaking
earthen muck, 'neath unsure footing,
inebriated lush.
As I took my leave of gathered
friends and spirits, nothing mattered.
My farewell you found off-putting,
Saw you start to blush.

The simple act of placing lips
against your tender fingertips
would find you fleeing up the stairs.
Just turn and walk away.
Unspoken token, affection
of a deepening connection.
Not one word said, not one soul cares,
but I can't look away.

I wait and watch you disappear
through the fading smoke and mirrors.
I thought one day you'd call again,
never ending silence
echoes out the only mistake
that I'd ever admit to make,
for on that night I lost a friend.
Self-inflicted silence.