Black bats beat
Blast beats with black wings against a
Black moon.
I stare at the blood on my hands
In an effort to feel close to you.
I hold my scratched skin
To the florescents
And study the funeral card for the event
I never got to attend.
You and I were only carrion here,
Buzzards floating close enough to touch
Our pale eyelashes.
But you,
Sweet boy,
Quiet boy,
Secretive boy-
Were smart enough
And strong enough
To leave.