Heat.

Constellations of frozen glances
I so lovingly photographed and watched 
Fade through the icy glass of photo frames. 
A blazing pattern of fire
Streaking across the unblinking eyes on my wall.

Scorch marks, blackened over time.

I miss the heat from the stove, 
On the nights of adventures in deck chairs,
Watching, or not, movies in blankets of ourselves.
Seeing you receive slopping kisses from man’s best friend,
You were; you are mine. 

decay

And they pick you apart:
With the childish glee of
Pouring salt on snails,
Of picking the wings off moths.

A rat looking for the best scraps
Catches its own reflection in a mirror
Above a heap of
Garbage. 

Every chip in your nail, a pill
You’ve taken to see just how fast
You can swallow a bottle.
They see the untrimmed split ends,
Tearing, ripping in half,
Selling you out:
“Unfinished, unkept, unwanted”.
The yellow stained teeth of verbal acid
Foam at the corners of their blue lips. 

A rat confused, walks into glass
Again and again;
Thuds on a bloodied mirror. 

They ask you who you are,
They already know.
You become them, or they’ve always been you.

 A rat turns and eats itself whole.

the idea of people

I miss you in a haze of tea,
Or maybe champagne.
A peculiar loss, I
Stripped of not freedom
But opportunity as blinding as a strobe.

I never loved you, but I loved how
You smelled: of the first time I dove off a cliff.
Tasted of my first cigarette.

You would appear with no shirt,
Calling out slurred fragments of words as broke as the wooden rafters.
Or maybe you were in a navy blue blazer
With golden rings framing each button,
Covering your make believe problems with a 
Too-good-to-believe French accent.

I miss you in the throbbing mornings, 
Almost transparent in a coating of
Insincere laughter.

So you’re gone and I can’t touch you.
I can’t breathe in a different choice,
Can’t sing a rhyme and have my future decided.
But I replaced you; destroyed you