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.