We will be together when the day is done,
but here is where stars and skies and purple lies.

I went away in ill due time
on a fault that isn’t even mine,
but a blackened moons
who wrecked the way
for others after…

Here is where you find the lie...

She said it to just be nice.

It was me all along,
I was the broken arm
in the restless sling…

I’m the unimportant thing
to be despised of,
or left to be carried away by
maggots and flies,
so her hands
can paint my face full of goodbyes.

But it's not like this do I tell of fate.

It’s only in writing do I commiserate
and once again begin to feel…

*Is it her?
Can this be real?!

(silence)