And thus we part again.
Speak no more of soft hands
and cracked lips,
smoke filling your lungs,
gently painting the sides with filth and grime.
While a specter sits on your shoulder
piling on guilt and worry in thick layers of sedimentary rock.
Your bones have been broken,
and your wrists have been shredded,
I remain silent
and listen to you laugh.
Your words spill out in ink,
for those who care to know,
leaving fingers chapped and pink.
Each line made of worn silk
in a different shade of cream.
I think of the bits and pieces
that make you whole
as if they were born from my subconscious.
Twisting the colors to green and black,
I trace your outline in my mind
with the intention
of finding a missing child.
Our ties remain tangled
and thus we part again.