do you grieve here often?

at the place where the river connected our sins

close my eyes to hear it better

i see ticking clocks with medic bags

aching gasps and breathless lungs

try to heal but my heart is too bruised

it’s so strange to see you here

wearing my albatross of shame

chain smoking yesterday’s regrets

as if that will take them away

how often do i hope you’ll linger

how many times have i wished you pain

as your city slowly suffocates me

this time i cannot run away

can’t help but remember your face

although i’ve forgotten your voice

the way your lips bent under mine

and foreheads came to gentle rest

admire the color in your eyes

but the depth has long since gone

a gaze that would make me once torn

instead leaves me feeling nothing at all

you threw out the bracelet i gave you

or maybe just gave it away

it’s fitting don’t you think

said the things that we didn’t say

i still replay the ending

drink to ease the truth

can’t really afford to live alone

only to waste away a wasted youth

i don’t know how to be without you

at least right now

stuck in the interim

mindlessly confined

in a self created purgatory

where not even the vultures go

there’s blood on my hands and it tastes like your ghosts

said you’d watch for bad dreams but we know how it’d go

there’s not much left i can’t go much further

my legs long to run but my heart is tethered

the fires burnt out said it’s time to let go

pour the ashes on us and let the memories flow

avoid mirrors and windows

afraid to see in, terrified to see out

gazing through foggy lenses

as the outside world moves by in a blur

ignoring doorbells that ring in my mind

when heavy thoughts are too tired to answer

my fingernails hook underneath your rib cage as shower curtains rain onto tile floors

ear ringing silence overtakes in between the breaths that threaten to break us

chests that ache with overwhelming emptiness spew vomit into my lungs

and your words, ever so hurtful, repeat themselves when my brain gives up

i don’t dare look at my reflection now

can’t stand the emptiness in my eyes

and there’s danger in the loneliness

spare a kiss between the lies

the fireplace is out of embers

and the midnight moon is cold

no there’s nowhere to go from here

our promises have grown too old

promise me the world

even if momentarily

write your graffiti on my forehead

and tell me it’s only temporary

my love i already knew

i see foundation leaks beneath rotten surfaces

muted music so you can hear who’s behind you

feeling ever so present to the essence of morning

yet so further removed from a sense of being

watch as the embers extinguish themselves onto the river

icy water reflecting city light

find words ever so forthcoming

wish they had ur delight

sinking into corners

wishing my mind could concave

i don’t how u spend ur free time

i guess i don’t know what’s become of mine

trying to light my last cigarette

but my thumbs gone numb with frost

trying to be sober but the sidewalk is still breathing

my mind moving in fractal tones

finding comfort in the quiet

yet no solace in being alone

the widows stir pots of bile for neighborhood children without birthdays

wearing names that no one will call for when the streetlights flicker

the bartender makes a paper mache fortress from unpaid tabs

defenses to keep out the withdrawals that come aching back

and policemen skip stones off the graves of navy sailors

watching as they ricochet into the chests of unwilling martyrs

an orange moon beats bloody against the bitter night

daring you to appreciate the beauty in a dying world

but the clouds are made of smoke leftover from the last occupation

and the stars the gods wove for us have long faded away

factories pump out manufactured dreams of wealth to the masses

as citizens unite to flush out those who dare to defy the regime

the air has been stolen by a higher power that promises beautiful death after life

erecting statues of gold to inspire hope in those whose pain they've created

and young professionals sit in empty high rises with rolled-up dollar bills

watching as widows stir pots of bile for children without birthdays