red and yellow stripes
floral skirt
kleenex in the floor of her car
she steps outside for some air
very aware of her lungs in this moment
everyone talks in hushed voices
for fear of waking the dead
they call it senseless
rumors whispered to grieving ears by the funeral home entrance
poison injected into a mournful vein
my lungs are moving but there is no air here
there is no air in her
a soulless visitation to track marked arms
there’s nothing here but over-perfumed vases of silk flowers
i want to tell her how sorry i am
but i cannot turn around
i cannot understand how people stand in a circle and cry together
i cannot understand showing your heart so openly to near strangers
(hyperventilating in the car like a real ((dysfunctional)) person)
it is so hard to understand a love that scars you
these chairs are too comfortable
these conversations too casual
the sky is too blue, your lips are too blue
twenty eight years of fighting
a war against your own brain
it’s so unclear
if this is winning
or losing