I don't owe you
You don't own me
I don't need to explain myself
I've said my piece
Now move on

the sun rises out of your pocket
that's how I've always known it
you empty the lint along with the golden threads
and weave them gently into my sleep addled eyes
when I wake, you're gone
but I know you've been there
I can tell by the way the chair is facing the opposite wall
the shoes on the floor have taken the shape of the last step you took
and your ghostly perfume still lingers as a full figure of air
dashing through the vents just to come out the other side
full-fledged and yet fleeting as I make my breakfast
you rattle the walls and that's how I know it's time to take out the trash
the black vinyl plastic bags seem to melt under the heat
just as I do when you tell me that love is problematic
but you've always been resourceful

I need to go to sleep.
Otherwise, I will lose my mind.
.
.
.
Wait, nevermind.
Already lost it.

People do like mischief and chatter,
Really, what does it all matter?
It is only about chaff and stuff,
In 100 years, we shall all be dust,
This is what makes me meaner,
As I empty more dust from the vacuum cleaner,
We shall all be a little pile of dust,
And our pets, a tiny heap of fluff!

You read it
You want to know what happened
You read it
You can not find an answer
You read it
You ask for the truth
You read it
You feel the beads of sweat
It can not be true
You read it
The newspaper gives you an answer
You read it
Tears run down your cheeks.
You read it
she is dead
Just gone
You read and read
Again and again
Do not understand why
You cry
You read it
You can not find the answer
The answer to the why
Why so early
You cry

It's true
she is dead
I'm in the movie
she is dead
I see it in the newspaper
Read your obituary
It is not a movie
she is dead
I feel in a movie
It's true