Strained clouds bleed
Pastel
Sequences without pattern
Or footsteps without man
Ghosts and formulas filling in for all we’ve loved
And all we’ve loved is one brain away
One false synapse from leaving us
For no other reason than
We had a hard time
No one would listen
I felt alone
In all that love?
In all that room.
The measure of me
In my hands
Hollowed to hold the weight of you
Scratches up and down the shirt to beg
A strike snapped from a snake
And all stillness
Then movement
Where the fan whispers into your clothes and sends the secrets tittering out
A flap of your jacket
A slip of hand from giants
And you’re gone
what death trips off your tongue more easily than your own
for no buckling in breath precedes it
no start of recognition of love no. it hollow hopes not in all pallor stirs not the water meant to be stirred
a field without handhold
a glass without reward of Truth
locked within
a beating bird striking again again
the time
The problem of extracting your life from another’s
Is they don’t care the reason
Suicidal
Chronic illness
Depression with a plan
Schizophrenia
They see closing doors as an upfront to them
How dare you do this to me
Not the rubber casing you’ve responsibly put around them
How dare you not trust them- believe they could take it?
How could I when this alone has upset you.
This alone may happen ten times in three years
Radio silence
Or a behind the counter tantrum
Shuttered away from prying eyes
And if it slips out oh now
The unacceptance is personal
You’re a pain-giver now
A pain-giver always must shut his doors
And warn away stray thoughts of tenderness
A pain-giver must always carry his grief in case the shut out have need of its bottled bitters
Have need to shout
Everyone knows once they get in, they just want back out
Cracked upon a hair, full open, closed fast
You’re in here by yourself
AbyKittiwake 