Elegy For A Heart

Dear my friend,

here I speak at your passing

when hands leave bruises

I mark your shape

out of memories

and run back to my gilded safety

Dear my friend,

I wonder when I'll start to miss you

how could you have remembered

to stem the flow of my tears

when red blood

stains red hair

Dear my friend,

I speak at your passing

wondering exactly why

my own hands creep to silence you

when there

are no words to be quieted

and places go

unsignposted and vacant

and so my friend

when the gap starts to fill

and silhouettes

are more human than

either they or I

I will speak at your passing

this is an elegy for a heart

that is dear to me

The End

3 comments about this poem Feed