Dead weight

Bones, that barely fill
the hollow
left
between dead weight
and fine film.

I fall behind.

You, wait for me
to stretch and
wrap
what is left.

A layer of protection
but I
fall behind.

What we use to be

So seldom
do I hear your voice
settle on my outstretched palm.
Stirring what little
is left within delicate lines.
I wrap warped fingers
against the pull of the tide
as your whisper fades.

Inhale

She was my girl.

Yet now
I barely recognize
the ghost
who stands
softly in her place.

Who weeps quietly
as she is torn down.

Who screams inwardly
against the raging violence.

Struggling each day
to simply breath in
a little more.

Resigned

I stand down
absolving
myself from blame.

Backing away.

I take no responsibility.

For the hanging boy

And he came.

Seeping silently.

Unwatched
and invisible to the naked eye.

Planting
thoughts and words.
Who didn't belong?

And he came.
On dismal cloudy days.

And he came.

And he stayed.

And you left.

Slipping away

You pulled me back
from the edge
of all that was lost
to a galaxy of
nothingness.

As you held on
to the splintered
fragments
that once made up
me
I felt all those
big dreams
slip away.

And how they did.

Squeezed into the
blackness
of an ever expanding
black hole.

But you held on to
me.

And I was empty.

And I was alone.

And I just wanted
you to
let go.

Settled

I am meant to be
gloriously happy
and grateful
and thankful
and everything else
that comes with
settling down.

So how come
I just feel sad?