I know this needs a lot of help, whatever.
The cold night air is like
colonge slapped on my cheeks,
the way your caustic comments
slapped, stung and stayed -
suspended in the raging case of
my ribcage. Now, tendrils of smoke
whisper in your vacancy.
They say your finally gone,
that it's time to cry, move on and
that love doesn't last that long.
I walk, through the sepia leaves.
They fall like footsteps on the
ripped up pavement, and I kick up their
ashes in reverence to your memory.
Not so poised, nor even in waking,
I drag my throbbing heart behind me -
it's shackled to my ankles and it's
grating in my hips.
And it's been there since you pulled it
out from in between your lips.
In the junctures of tree branches, I
rest my head on a stranger's chest.
I shake sobs into the foundations of
the earth, empty sounds that chill my
hollow bones. Down the street, I can see
your hands over your ears.
You could never hear me, all my
screaming for all the year.
Bashing into your body,
invisable, unseen -
I am your hanging queen.
Scupltured, dead and lean
on your blinking theatre screen.
Showdown, we're
standing, scaled.
I can only shoot at someone
who withdrew me from the fight.
To sin, signed Love -
Goodbye, darling, Goodnight.
