I would hope
that no one would read my mind
or hold on to a grudge
But what is left
not in final meaning
but in my explanation
of my open wounds
My heart floats
on ice
in hills
Basking on spreadsheets
And analysis
I am not wanted
Knowing that
Something
Ominous
Hangs  
above me,
and confides in me
I am unattached
Just like death  
Or when autumn
Dies quickly
Or your soul
stays around
Without warning
my hands held
to open skies
I turn and walk away
soaked in my own memory