He is cut from marble
Stoic, reformed, awe inspiring
Smells of mountain tops
Rain washed stone
Just as cold and clean
Voice unwavering
Could command war fleets
A murderous disinfectant
With a one track mind
Unloving, unlovable
He was leaned on
Never leaned into

His frame is that
Of a split willow branch
Splintered and narrow
Bendable and strong
He barely musters mutters
Words colliding, sticking
Like molasses on linen
His eyes are damp moss
I know from photographs
As his eyes won't meet mine
Too fragile, faithful , naive
To bear so many scars
He settles for shelter
He deserves a home

Cigarettes stuffed
In the worn out pocket
Of a jacket
That doesn't belong to me
A walk in the rain
Early in the morning
With a dollar store lighter
That doesn't belong to me
Soaking my socks
Inhaling smoke
I have a heartache
That shouldn't belong to me

Forgetting you exist
Should not have been easier
Than existing with you

I struggle to get air
Beneath this mound of earth
I've buried myself in
So ashamed to be this *****
I've forgotten
That beneath the mud
Is where seeds grow

******* tilt his head
And inspect pupils too large
And breaths to shallow
******* scoop *****
And rot out of his mouth
While he lays there immobile
******* dial 911
While he spews hatred
For you, his rescuer
His family, his only friend
******* turn a key
Locking a door for the last time
Leaving you behind.