I’d like to find the words
to cut right through the muck,
but when it comes to you
you know that I’m just stuck,

I ready up the blades
and soap clean my hands,
to work toward the heart
no matter where it lands—

All the things—
We said—
Will forever be dead—

But I’ll hold on—
Instead—
You’ll always live inside my head.

I fell in love
not with you
but the way
you validated me
when you grew tired
and could not hold my sorrows
in your shaking hands
I felt nothing
I laid my worth on you
full forced and terribly
I loved you not
for who you were
but who you let me be
and I am sorry

A tumbleweed, floating through the vacant desert.
A comic scene for those in silence.
A disastrous nightmare to those behind a big dream.

The new moon.
Present, yet unseen.