- minus one

long night —

I sit by the stream

replenished by my tears

ever so often. (a place I have always come to close

myself as rusted lockets) the tables around me weren’t empty;

even music, sometimes, has silence.

they speak of moments and laugh at buffoonery

that never lasts past its time;

just as presence never marks belonging.

What of the smiles and the pain —

that which coexists and conceals thus? O, Eos!

a knife —

I slit the veins along my wrist.

gently, the blood flows into

the water; I am

cleansed. you will not step into this place

I call hearth.

barren nothing!

your hatred for reliance

manifests upon your desperate

need for company.

you giveth me hope

that which does not exist goodbye,

for there is no meaning in lying upon

this land just to watch

stars shoot by before we can wish for anything.

rest your heart upon those who

can give you what you want.

I cannot. I will not.

if falling to my knees is what you ask

of this love,

you may excuse yourself. leave.

I do not fear sardonic eyes

as you do. What do you call the single dim light

trapped amidst the beauty of a scarlet night?

originally published: 18 Aug 2015