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Spring Wilting

Pale petals sink deeper into thick, mis-used
air and I stare. It falls to the ground
with a thunk and you stall
while I stand,
bawling my heart out under anatomy.

You, you flatter me.


I search for my name
on your paper-flower game, and find nothing,
he loves me not.
Who ran fingers around my hair,
brushed winds full of care to my ears, whispered,
taught me my laugh. By the way, has anyone
seen that lately? I seem to have misplaced it,
left alone at the sense of your hand on my hip.
I became a pink rose then, pretty but too faint
to show in the light.

[I know, it wasnt supposed
to be this big huge-
I know, I wasn't supposed
to hear- sincere? You call that
lousy, one time, misplaced
stroke of lace a connection?
I'm storming towards "perfection",
warning, I might give way to false
perception, I dance around and smile
but really it's denial who's my primary
companion...]

THAT may be in part to do with the fact
that I've been on edge since you let the petals
go. I forgot I was a show you could turn on and
off, electricity in waves
too fine to find.

(I didn't want him to touch me)
or brush free, it's insane
all the blame I'm swimming in and you're
perfectly floating along, feeling better

(well guess what, I've been under the weather, to say
the least. I can't feel my knees with the
quivering they still do at the sight of you)
I'm drowning in the sea of your detachment,
seven days under but months out of breath, and
it's guaranteed my lungs will collapse within
seconds of seeing you, hearing your name from
the outside or not, and all I want is to talk to you
and mock you and slap the smile off your face. Even though
you deserve it.

I need to hold the smerky-part and let spill uncontrollably
the sense I never
aquired, and how I meant whatever the hell I said
about birds or words or adventures uneard of to
anyone but us, we'd kick off with the dust and
it would just be the two of us, digging holes with
the souls of our feet, walking miles
painting smiles on ours and others faces,
accumulating traces of loss left forgiven. I wish
the world could be like that, but there are
bigger wishes, brighter smiles to obtain.

I might have
been breathing without you, but not living
and now the cold is motioning, "welcome
back." and I follow him, because you never did
follow me into the dark like
we promised.





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