only seeds were left
her white-washed cheeks
and those protruding bones.
just the little girl
next door in the window
pounding stained glass
with the hurry of heartbeat
now, there are only echoes of words
don’t look through the curtains
stay in the back alley
skipping over puddles,
smoke fills the house
abandoned and broken –
without a pulse.
It’s a better story if i talk about
Finding flowers in open wounds
If i say it’s alright
If i tell you that i’m better now
That i can see the different
shades of morning again
Like i used to
Or if i talk about the spinning head demons
Running circles but there isnt really anything
Poetic about this pain
I cant make this a pretty ending.
This room is sanitized with
psychiatrists and nurse therapists
Sad teenagers and their
parents sit like broken glass dolls.
flipping pages and greeting one another
with a friendly smile, with a
how are you
with uncomfortable small talk
There is Purple and blue silence
packed in the bags under my eyes
I let the tears on my cheek dry as you
push the box of kleenex across the table
you’ve been barring your bones
in the stones in the driveway
while you chase the mail man,
the boy on the bicycle
the kids who play hopscotch out back,
every moving thing that catches your
ocean blue eyes.
strangers better be warned to
never put their hand out to you
as innocence turns into a flaming demon
captured in your growl.
the old man
throws baseballs and
tennis balls into the
backyard for you to play with
and i know, it makes me wonder too
has he taken his
daily medications today?
and i’m sorry for spraying water on you
for laughing at your fear having a heart attack.
for laughing when you hide
under the bed when i vacuum my room.
no one has ever known what we’ve been through
together, that you’ve kissed my wrists
after they were kissed by a metal blade.