Sunday, March 31, 2013


you are

the spring in my limp
the depth of my shallow breaths
the shattered melancholy
of my being broken

from before I knew you
sweet smoke
my dad loved to hide behind
dark eyes of an early crush
summertime grass warm
against my bare feet
first real kiss

black-veiled mourner
standing alone
beneath gray rain
clenching teeth and fist
dropping muddy earth
into my grave
smearing what’s left
across your face
hiding your crying
downcast eyes
enduring the disappointment

in all that I am not

Burningword - April 2013

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