You line your eyes with kohl
To hide how dead they are.
Numbed.
For someone I'd seen living.
Breathed with in harmony
Like the stream of life that they talk about.
That I drew water from everyday
Back in summer.
I now see a walking corpse
Prettied up
To hide the stench.
Except
When you look up
Trying to find the lost melody
Of our first spring admist the rain
Do I see a flicker of the old fire
Light up to die again?
Or is it perhaps what I want to see
Like everything else
(because if I'm dead, it's elating
to see you deader than I am
to prove that I'm not alone, that it's okay)
I try to contain you
In empty words.
Bare. Rash. Ugly. Recycled. They don't make any sense.
They all sound the same.
I want to sing of the city once again.
(But I can't scrape poetry out from a dead soul)
Ironic
How I could never put you to words
When we were both filled to the brim with love.
And as I leave
with the weight of
all the things you wanted to say.
(but there were no words)
We sit together, in comfortable silence.
So empty. So wasted.