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A Window About to Burst
I'm losing it
to the point where I starve myself
just to hear the music
of stomach groans,
and waste away into emaciation
where I discover the patience
of being alone.
And these bones may rattle
in the cold
but at least for now, they hold me together
like a hyphenated word
on the verge of running out of letters;
A window about to burst
into shards where you'll trace my name
then forget the bleed.
Or spacedust
looking one final time at the constellation
from which it was freed.
I'm an amalgam
of what never was and what left
written on a paper, then glued in half.
A song played with the volume off.
The words you never heard...
I remember your bout with indifference when you wrote this and even though I was a horribly self-involved person at the time, it still hurt me to know you were feeling this way. And for course I was making the situation worse for you rather than try to make you feel better.