Perhaps they had tried to escape,
or else done some petty crime.
These three would not be gassed or shot-
The rope would serve just fine.

Two men, one boy with nooses fixed-
condemned but never tried.
The nooses tightened on their necks
as they kicked the air and died.

Except the boy, he was too light
He lingered when they died
“Where is God? ” one man muttered
“Where is He? ” others cried.

They made us all march past the place
Where those three in judgment fell
The boy in his slow agony
still endured his private Hell.

The path we walked was ash and bone
Of former inmates made
Those gassed and buried in the air
These were their sole remains.

“Where is God? Where is He now? ”
Some muttered as they passed.
I thought- if He’s not hanging here
More than likely He’s been gassed.

My brother-in-law is the tightly wound sort.
Self contained in his miserable way.
Always quick with a quip or a nasty retort,
and, most likely, a miserable lay.

His job unfulfilling, his woman unwilling.
His co-workers thought he was gay.
He labored long hours for his indifferent masters
for infrequent raises in pay.


When he defenestrated his co worker Sally
and police asked me, what could I say?
" It's always the quiet ones
you have to watch out for-
I knew this would happen someday."

I'm leaving today.
I'm packing pieces of myself, removing all the evidence that I was ever here.

The room is starting to look so bare.
The bathroom looks so empty without my hair products and deodorant lining the sink.

My absence will be just as noticeable as my presence;
white cat fur on dark clothes.

I'll miss these walls.
I'll miss greeting you with my lips.
I'll miss hearing you say you love me when we end a phone call.
I'll miss you.
Years down the road I'll bring you up to faces you've never seen.
I'll let them know how you saved me,
and taught me about what it means to love someone unconditionally.
I'll keep the story alive.
Strangers will know you by name.
They will recognize the bits of me that you assisted in sculpting.
People will remind you that I'm a bird, so if you love me then let me go;
that will not ease the pain in your heart.
I want the freedom, but there will be rainy days where I will want to run for cover in your shelter.
If I do not get through the rain by myself,
I'll never discover all the rainbows ahead.

The ring you got me three years ago has gained a great amount of weight.
I think it is filled to the brim with memories,
but looking back won't make it less heavy.
Taking it off will be my last goodbye to our romance,
and the final resting place of our relationship will forever remain inside our hearts.

                                                        ­                                Goodbye, Lover