The appeal of your heart smeared on the concrete beneath my heel.
Holds too high a place in my smile, as I glide in through overly welcomed doors.
However, here I lay heaped high in the lies I sewed into your eyes like a permanent blindfold-
As I tenderly suffocate the sound of you with a pillow and slid silently from the farthest window,
And believe that my escape left sweet intentions like salt on my already dry tongue-
As I had promised in vain to renew a hopeless spirit in hopes
Of becoming something more than I thought I could be
When Life plagued me to ride coach in the pocket of your coat,
and somehow I got lost in that tiny space you so allowed for me,
And in resentment clearly I see not how it became home-
But now I lay scattered on peat moss beneath the willow tree,
I am told once that the gloss that sheens from the bottom floor
Of the light, that once engaged the troubled eyelashes
Batting against my swollen cheek to forgive and forget.
I said I left my heart beating on the mantlepiece
that blows cold air from the cracks in the wall
To the even more cold steel of iron
hanging on the menacing overlooking wall,
It blows steady like a stream that swims
Way up past my sordid veins to the lodge
That once kept my lungs for me,
I have frozen to the placid movements
Of your chest and became ostracized
To the rythym of the breathes
That no longer existed,
No longer preceded the bound of hair
That meet your neck and the silkened skin that chased it away.
I find that my own breathes shallows like the tin of a drop
That slips from the ceiling, a small drop ontop of the basket
Given to me in remembrance of you at your funeral of plastic-
The same one I have yet to claw open until it lies in little pieces.
Little threads, little petals,
Crumpled to heaps in resemblance of you-
Dead, like you.
And I have yet to forgive your insistant yawning
That took place at the entrance of my heart,
Were you grew so tired and slept just before the entrance-
And your slumber went on for days, until you finally passed
Over finely with the smell of a lick against my bones-
And have I yet to forget the iradescent words
Your tarnished lips fluttered against my the back eyelids-
Because time no longer remains to be the largest band aid
I have on my finger, the one I wave in the face of your still
Corpse and release to gather the stale aura of death:
That defeated the fight you forget to take with it.
I feigned all knowing at your casket side
As I sipped in the tears from the funeral-goers
At my side that traveled in a taut haze
To meet my fingers pressed blatantly
In such furious aggrivation against my temples-
-And while I have yet to comment on the hour,
That bathes in the corsage
I wore once too long ago with the slipping fingers
That portrayed a love that you rendered extinct
With the gasp that left your lips
At the time I forgot to speak and I hate you for it.
And while the wicked night sneaks ransomed tears
From between the sighs from lips
That escape without notice,
I am bound to the sheer thought
That fingers my brain, and leaves me doubtless....
That you died in your stubborness and did it just to spite me.
