i’ve hung your buzzard-picked smile

next to that rusty military badge

both flicker in the dry silver sun

caring is not an advantage

i don’t want to look at that smile.

the wallpaper peels and the hinges creak

and it reminds me of you

dust gathers

eloquent

your fingers pluck the windowsill.

old sheet music floats and stills, suspended

in the air. i never could play a melody

like you could, like you played me

composing, it helps me think

but you left me unfinished.

she comes in and smiles and

takes a step back when she sees your skull

among my other necessities, a watch and a penknife

well, i say friend

when she acts cruel it reminds me of you.

there’s a restaurant and a ring

can i help you, monsieur?

and a question like a gun to the head

i’m certainly endeavoring to, sir.

like that red dot on your heart, my own caught in my chest

like a gaze from a crowd of strangers-

the last time in years i’ve felt so alive

suddenly aware-

and she’s not you, but you share the same eyes

the face of an old friend-

so hot and sharp, and i'm ready to fall

-

-

but oh, you were always so cruel.