Red fibers missing from stained lips
Oceans colluding in eyes far from home
Bruises on calves from hands like trees
Tongues patchy and burned from coffee you didn't need
Notes and pictures from times we loved
Deep crimson stains on sleeves I can't wash
Because
You are
Gone
But you still resonate
In the static mess
In the sticky
Junk
That I've always called my head
So I return to where I belong
In a grandeur state of disillusionment
To obtaining salvation over the counter
Of writing records where you can hear my heart break
I am
Back
I am the monster with too many hearts
I am the ocean without a current
I am placid bleak
Sky
With pink tissue missing and jagged edges
I carve along the roots of my
Trees
Sit on a bridge
And hope that the sky and I meet