Categories > Original > Poetry4 Reviews
They drain mothballs into your eyes and South Dakota flies into your head. Sincere, so dear to my dreary alibis. Such a shame we aren't all saying goodbye.
You left your poet's pen on a notepad in San Diego, tying the knots in your veins to Oklahoma. And the waitress barely blinked, but her smile so fake said it all. Farewells still leave you shamed. How they missed you, how they loved you...but their blues will fade into the next headline, the next blockbuster tearjerker.
Now your gaze falls in sync with an adoring one. One who looks so sad now.
You stare, he stares back.
His eyes. The ones of the breezy dumbfounded fool. He blinks twice, you feed on this slight acknowledgment, using this as strict evidence that you didn't fall into that blanket of snow from twenty feet up. His eyes yield the transformation of a father born into his child's brain. As dolls' mouthorgans moan, oh so loudly, oh so tiredly, the ping and pang of life cuts your arms open. And you're just too drained.
The fool stares at you, his mouth barely moving, eyebrows raised in stupid confusion. You cry out to him, but all that breathes through you is a broken whisper sighing in tomorrow's syringes. You scream, weep, stare, anything to get that attention you once had.
They ate you away and now they grieve for your smile; the one they stole that from you years before you fell.
How strange...why must it come as it is? Why must the sky's gaping bones swallow your scars...?