Sallow

What might it be like now, to be stirred to tears?
To be rocked by the eruption of righteous rage?
How sweet would love be
If you could actually feel it?

Trapped deep, your ghost cries out

Pounding transparent fists against a rotting door

They wonder where you have gone

But you are still here

Merely in a different room.

At some point the dream is meaningless

You could not tell me when

It all began to dissolve

Leaving only an accumulation of things

Like someone else's wreckage

After a storm.

Something rich and old and beautiful

Runs through you

Confined to an ancient room

Even you don't have the key to.

On and on, through unfamiliar places

Playing your familiar games

Watching black and white films

Living in a past that was never yours

Sun on skin, joyless heat.

You look soft but you are hard

You felt warm but you

Chilled me.

Loneliness is something we know

Adrift in crowds, staying inside on nice days

We perused dusty bookshelves and talked to ourselves.

What might it be like now, to be stirred to tears?

To be rocked by the eruption of righteous rage?

How sweet would love be

If you could actually feel it?

Always, this vague, detached wondering

Like reading the map of a world

You never wanted to visit in the first place.

So the fog settles in, comfortable and complete

You forget how painful it was to drift away

You forget everything.

But still that ghost rails and roils

In the locked room

Begging you to remember.

 

The End

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