My face distorted,
my mouth twisted and
shrieked under the broken remnants
of night.

I shook, shook, shook.
I finally wasn't numb.

Be thankful you didn't see her.
her face did shatter,
her fragile frame quaked,
in her driver's seat immobile,
directionless once again.

We talked outside of coffee shop,
she was cute,
I looked like hell.
"No, no you can't."
She said in reference to my eye's honesty.
"I was supposed to be strong."
She quivered,
Her mouth locked open,
she was more real than I had ever seen her,
through her cracking voice
she spoke with absolute wisdom,
and it magnified my misery.

The previous night found us
on the stairs outside my apartment.
We smoked,
she started a heavy talk,
I was relaxed,
introspective,
ready to release the last
bit of cancer she swore
she could eat.

Two moments cut deeper than
anyone has ever cut me.

The first was when she released
a melancholy howl,
and spit, "You're my best friend"
through the tears and the runoff
from her nose.

The second is when she threw the bracelet.
The reminder would be too much,
then she somehow slipped the "Be the change" ring
into my back pocket.

I didn't want them as reminders either.

I put them next to the mosaic she made me.
The one I never bought a frame for,
the one that pleaded our favorite Beatles track,
"Don't Let Me Down".

I built her up
to let her fall.

A Tower of Babel to wreck through
                                                         ­               secrets,
                                         ­                               nomadic revelry,
                                                        ­                and speaking in barricades.