Suicide
You walk away
last time
look
deep into the street
swish of your hips
neon breasts
stairway to the roof
you’re done with me
and my kind
seeking the stars
pretending
you have wings…
Broken
Broken
before we met
I only caught a glimpse
your face a mask
your body an instrument
you played well
gleaming in the dark
soft music
of the phantom
with a twisted little switchblade.
Shadows on the Wall
You tried to tell me
a few times when I wasn’t listening
our shadows on the wall
swaying
with our slick sickness
nympho with a conscience
beating yourself into our bed
I was the gangster
continually layering my shell
finding you in the morning
limp in the bathtub
raw and pink from scrubbing so hard
I couldn’t speak
unsure of what I hadn’t done
I could only pat you on the shoulder
whistling some sad song
hoping that would do.
I particularly like the final poem – love that narrative voice. :)