Losing you,
like a moon beam fallen onto my palm
solidified in the absence of my gaze
grown terrestrial
in my naivety
heavier-earth-bound,
both of us
victims of gravity.

there is a gold lighter on the kitchen counter.
it doesn't mean anything
but it still burns with the heat of the last time it
was alive.
i pocket it.  i will try it later, when i am alone,
and watch it's smoke curl in to the crevices of the endless sky.


outside there is a dais and my family are spread across it like a luxurious french tapestry.  
it is fraying, though.
or maybe it always was.



i am colder than i was here, last year.
every spring we gather to remind each oher
that we should see each oher more, shouldn't we?
i am planted in this polite, vacuous soil of words.
a bulb submerged, fat and waiting in the earth.
i am waiting to grow.  to turn my face up, and away.
last year there were more of us, i'm sure;
but i can't recall the names
faces
of those that aren't here.

we are measuring our decline like an hourglass-
with each new year we are one less, one less.

It's a sad revelation
To discover that nobody is to be trusted
Lying tongues
Twisted together like snakes in a pit
Honesty is nowhere to be found
Nowhere do you feel at home
Nowhere do you feel welcome
Even the grass complains when you step on it
You can only keep to yourself
Long and silent are the days
It feels good when the sun beams through the window
But that is short lived
Soon you will travel home
This journey will require no luggage
Your work is complete
All you ever wanted was to be loved
But love in this world does not come free
And you never had the money to buy it

I feel like I'm losing everyone
Or maybe I never really had anyone

Look at us,
Buried in dust.
This little love
Has died with us.

We had our fun,
Oh yes we did.
But your heart is heavy,
Too broken to fix.

For mine is steady,
But my soul,
Amiss.
As I turn away
From your quiet kiss.

We sit in silence,
Near the door we wait.
For one to open,

And the other to stay.

Piano notes drift in the
rainy evening,
like sadness from a
clock.
You were the color
in my dreams.
The paint on my
canvas.

When I looked at the night sky, I felt a deep sense of loss.

The stars, were too far away.

I packed jars into the fridge, so that they preserve all I have left when I come back.

It was a plague, a silence, that followed and sputtered life and people were scared.

But I got to see you. Goodbye.

And when I got back, I starved with little I had.

i hope there's a place for us
in the end.
unwanted, unpleasant,
they feel so uneasy when we bring it up,
the horrors of death.
they want to forget,
they want to be safe in their bubbles
of blissful oblivion.
right.
should we say we're sorry
for being too loud,
too angry, too stubborn,
not willing to die without a struggle?
perhaps we're just making it all up.
well,
although it was mostly pretend,
we really appreciate
your concern.
thanks for nothing.
i hope there's a place for you, too,
in the end.