Cloudy days make me
feel like I’d be better off
thinking and feeling with dispassion—
stripping all of those bright and buzzing inklings  
down to their logical black and white bones.
Colorless, I stare at what’s left of them—
dull pencil lines and some ***** eraser dust.
Nothing to build on, nothing to respond to.
There’s nothing left which stirs under my skin.
Now, just this empty notion someone put here.
I don’t like it or trust it.
I can’t make sense of it.
Only a familiar voice assuring me
“it’s better this way.”

Kneeling down
        Speaking to God
        His black eyes scream forgiveness
        The sound gives me goosebumps

    You see
                  I've done things most would consider a bit unusual
  But I've always deserved it
     A razorblade horizontally drug across my lips reminded me to never talk back
     Embedding shards of glass in my legs one by one reminded me to never run away from my problems
              
            After everyone died there were questions I could never say the real answer to
          
        You were there to hear the truth, always were
        Beside me, behind me, beneath me
    You never loved me enough to be inside, but it was ok because your mystique kept me inebriated

    The questions never stopped the rooms got smaller and I had to run
       I had to leave. You came with me

    I hated myself for not staying. And when the pieces of glass weren't enough, I understood I deserved a worse punishment, I lit a cigarette and started my trusty chainsaw
   And after I was finished even you shrunk away from me, my flat friend made of blackness where did you go?

       Now all I have is God.
He listens okay, but he's not like you. With my decimated body leaning against my bed, I look into his two deep dark hollow eyes, I bring his eyes closer, into my mouth, and finally he talks back. He says *bang

Oh, little girl,
You golden child,
With your loose ringlets of red.
I saw you in my dream—
In the backyard,
I picked you up and held your hand.

I can’t remember exactly
But at some time,
All the family hovered
A few feet off the ground.
We tried to fly,
But we could only make it to the top of the apple tree.

I wish I could protect you—
Like I did in my sleep—
With your soft skull of cartilage
Not yet solidified.
The experiences that will shake you,
Not yet set in,
Like some mental clay
That spent the next ten years
Baking in the hot sun.

I wanted to erase her name from an empty notebook
I burnt blank pages in desolation
But she still survived in my mind (and heart)
Like those radiant ashes at the fireplace,
reminding me of our timeless love
Now I curse the fire
for it was too late
**She was lost from my life

It’s fresh I thought,
Too red to be old.
Someday it will fade,
soon maybe.
It will turn pink.
I try not to stare but,
it’s as if some invisible magnetic force
is pulling my eyes towards it.
Does he know I’m staring?
It makes me uncomfortable,
I slowly sit down.
look into my tea, at the wall behind him
look at my hands.
“how was your day?” he asks.
He has no idea I see it.
I start to shake.
I know what he did,
what he’s been doing.
How do I ask?
Do we get help now?
It’s not healthy I think,
to just ignore the problem.
“It was fine.” I say
The lipstick perched on his collar.
The same way his hands were perched on her *******,
Maybe only an hour ago.
All I see is red.
Someday it will fade,
a mere smudge.
Nobody else will see it,
But I know, like a scar,
the mark will always remain.