HeldThose aimless srtung out fingers, hurt. Straying onto the pretty careless words held on.Caution to the petty heart.But damn the distance of the desperate.Tentative hands, held.
AnymoreYou’ve died again.So faintly in fleeing whispers, going astray.That turned into walking small mummers.Steadfastly those mumbles slowly but surely.Ran into a muttering soft echo away from speaking. and saying.Quietly in the elongating agonizing silence that choked back.The hesitating caught on scream of the far cry.That you’ve died, and I can’t hear you.Anymore.
ApartI’m watching sticks break, with bloody knuckles.Bruises form, under your tired eyes.Concaving inward, and screaming out.But can they hear the quiet, engulfing.Smiles, erupting into teasing kisses breaking laughter hurts.Those scratches leaving your reminiscent scars from yesterday.For today, and I’m still watching the sticks break.Apart.