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I watch the house come down
like a vengeful wave crashing
against my barefoot shore.

I don't know if
I wore my grey shirt
or the blue one with checks.

I can't tell from the dust caking
my chest; beating loudly I
put my hand to it

as if searching for my heart
in the shirt pocket;
I fumble

and feel nothing there.
I'd kept a picture of you there
in the breastpocket of my grey shirt

close to my heart.
And not any more, but a familiar ache;
left are these buttons of your last touch

and your breath in these threads.
You don't know that once you breathed into the sky
it just wasn't yours to take away.
Abstract. Like my life right now.
I am afraid,
in a way I haven't been before.

I am afraid
of the way people fall out of the sky,

I am afraid
of the way people disappear into the sea

without saying goodbye;
Suddenly the loss
feels like a snake

slithering from across the room;
venom in his blood
and names on his tongue.

I am afraid
of the way people find themselves
at the bottom of the barrel.

And I
am scraping
at the end of it.
RIP Mr. Robin Williams.
 (July 21, 1951 – August 11, 2014) 

The first loss I have known.
 Aug 2014 Syd Morgan
caroline
i still remember how luminous
and full of life your eyes were the first time i stared into them.
and i remember how i couldn't help but want to figure you out every time you smiled and glanced at me.
god, i wanted to know you.
i needed to know you.
but i guess that's why they say
*anything forbidden, we desire.
Just tell them
your poetry
is now for
someone else.
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