Silence like the inhale
before the exhale
of the ex-pianist
who lost his arm
saving his quadrant
from a land mine.

A moment of silence
for the men and women
who gave their lives
for a country of ingrates
who never offer any words of hope
or even a silent smile.

The silence of a mother
brushing her daughters raven-like hair back behind her ear.
A mother who had to beg for one last moment
to memorize every freckle and curve
as well as every pore and eyelash.
The silence of a final embrace.

A smile, quietly plastered on
to hide the screaming youth.
The silence before nervous laughter
swallowing back shallow sobs.

The silence of a wolf stalking its prey
before a bullet enters its brain from behind.
And the silence of the pups
watching from a distance.
Then the clamor of the gunmen
ecstatic with their catch,
falling silent only seconds before
the tortured howling and cries
from the orphaned beasts
surround their sub-conscience
for the rest of their lives.

You prepare for the worst
like a soldier in a war zone.
You crawl forward, testing every inch
in fear of being blown to bits.

I grasp you
by your thorny body.
I bleed.

I hook my fingers
around your beautiful petals
and pull
and you crumble.

This time
I dig you up
by your roots
and anchor you
within me.

The growth of a child-
never accepted.
She tries to intertwine
among her peers
only to be rejected.
So she digs through her soul
to find she is not meant
to be a part of the grid.

The world is the paper.
The torn corner is my world, my life.
It's my town, off the map, on the edge.
Broken, battered, unnecessary and useless.
Pathetic.
We can write all over it but
the more we do,
the less we see.
The less of a point there is
to that torn corners
already meaningless existence.
By the time
there's no more white space,
it's too late.
Another child dead, in the dirt.
An overdose due to a drug deal,
a fix
wrapped in a torn corner of
a sheet of notebook paper.
The dealer knows-
the rest of the fixes-
he throws it out of the window
as a perfect paper airplane
for the children on the street corners to find.
Candy,
they notice
the corner is missing.
It is worthless to them
but the candy is
priceless, precious.

I said "Everyone is too selfish"
while searching for someone
to complain to.
I tried making myself out
to seem like a victim or heroine of sorts.
But I hit a nerve of yours
when I brought up
my urges to pick pills back up.
You told me the saddest thing.
Then more horrors
that you'd been dealt.
I was in shock.
I am so sorry
for being so selfish.