how to grieve when they are still breathing


my nose is (hands are)
running.
over my lips, chin, and too wide hips.
cry//die//fire burns my bones brittle.

my bed does not call me.
instead, it grabs hold of my ankles
and pulls.
i do not mind drowning in silk sheets. caskets are uncomfortable
and i am sure my maker//my mother
would want to see me asleep.

there is no grave.
you are buried deep in a city littered with cigarettes
and my old scissors. the ones covered in blood
from the soft-belly of your forearm.
she holds you and
traces the circles you carved in another lifetime.
asks no questions//offer no answers.

flowers on the windowsill.
i watch as they wilt. wither. will this be my goodbye.
if your body wandered through my front door,
i would not know you by name.
the girl hearing voices. vices.
hers were -lovers -liquor -lace underwear.

sprinting sober in boxers. is it me?
say a prayer//please//pretend
you are not a dead man walking.

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