A bitter sting
clings to my skin
like the grin on his face.

Plastered,
like a brand new wall,
is the mark
of his love.

A loud whisper
left of his touch
floats around a numb skull.

My eyes are as blank
as the letter
made out to him,
left on my counter.

Boy,
don't move too fast.
Take it all in.
You're forgetting the real reason to be alive.

I should have known to leave
whenever we started ******* in the back of your car,
instead of in the grassy meadow right out the window.
I should have known to tell
whenever your hands started to leave bruises,
instead of butterflies.

I have to let you know something.
No one really cares
about the thoughts going through your head.
Or the way you're eyes
are slowly sinking into hollow sockets.
They really don't.

Tonight, as I looked into the vast lake,
I noticed something different.
It wasn't beautiful anymore.
The waves stopped overlapping each other,
and the shore line grew shorter.

Oh,
beautiful scenes can't last forever,
I suppose.

I said to him,  
"hold my hand
as tight as you can,
before the wind blows away my brittle bones."

Of course,
he let go of it
as soon as my eyes were closed,
and I kept them shut as the storm blew me away.

I still hear his voice
in the rain;
I smell his scent
in the wind.
I love him mercilessly
in the thunder.