dying
i am dying in a dark room with light accessories
you are waiting patiently at the door
praying on a rosary you crafted out of curls in my hair
let her live, let her live, let her live
oh please god, let her live
and you don’t believe in god but you do believe in us
and i linger there awaiting an answer and our verdict and i feel myself slipping
my life is flashing before my eyes
and you might see me smile when i get to the parts of you
but otherwise its tears and hatred,
so many times alone with broken glass
this is all i see its just a blur, a quick-quick life that lasts so long
and then there is you, slow-motion, wandering through my life like a mystery
a mystery and i cannot even solve myself
so the length of my life rolls out like a tape measure
short dark lines and long dark lines and numbers (all without you)
and it wraps around my neck
my last breath taken, my eyes realize you are gone
you believe in god but you do not believe in me
dead to you: might as well mean dead.