Whoever knew it could be
an instant coffin wheeling off
the pealed and sloughed,
to inhume the unsuspecting so
to the land
of the unfleshed.

This strangling metal
your essence meshed into
knew no mercy,
no gender,
no age,
know  you.
You, its bride to be,
would be the centerpiece,
the metallic origami hung
in my subconscious,
in a ballroom floor
polished with my regret,
dancing to a track
that’d forever ignite my memory
as to why
I’m still trying to purge the blood
off these severed dendrites.
I just wish
words came with receipts.

The following year
you would’ve became
an architect,
but tonight’s new moon
marks the day you turned
painted in tombstone gray.
Your liquefied blueprint
stained the interior,
and the shards
of your shattered dreams
cut the deepest.

I’m sitting here
in the passenger seat,
as I do on most nights.
The windows down
just how you liked it;
and this warm wind reminds me
of the random strands
that used to caress my face.
As I held my heart in place
and my pulse matched your pace
you’d reach for my hand,
and downshift my worries,
patted my thigh and
said that I’d make it alive;
but no one’s here now
to say that about you.

Misty eyed,
I look in the side view mirror,
raise a picture of you,
view the broken image
and pray that the words it claims
are true.
“Objects in the mirror
are closer
than they appear.”


2 thoughts on “Illusion

  1. i’m supposed to be writing… but I just found your blog and can’t stop reading…. my god you’re good!
    ps:though I really do have to write, just a few more, but i’ll be back…a lot…

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