You wore your scars like old shawls,
Tattered enough to see through with your eyes shut tight.
The song of your voice struck a mournful key
Before flattening out into a timbre of loss.

The notes shivered over my skin
And brushed at my hands,
Whispered at my shoulders,
As if it could be that easy to forget the
silver edges
That grief once glided onto your skin.

Your flouted soul repaired,
Your mending heart unanswered,
You were still one and whole,
As if it could be that easy to forget the
bones of broken soldiers
That once haunted your eyes.

In the deepest crease of the night,
The swollen blue moon lost its footing
And tumbled through the sky outside
your window,
Spirited away into ethereal black,
As if it could be that easy to defy the
boundaries of the shadows
That once carved despair into the faces
of the stars.