Stained glass,

A broken form, collapsing into

My hands.

--

Stained hands,

A crimson fate, a sudden wake

From silent death.

He was here.

--

I know that voice—

That raspy innocence,

That tainted smile,

Although the face

Blurs the color of memory.

--

Yes, it was I,

Or was it?

Is the answer near?

Will my brain ever claim

What it knows?

Comprehension and understanding

Are two different things.

--

His corpse is too familiar,

Yet vague.

I walk across him, the smell of sweet pride

Frees the air of self-indulgence.

Will his footsteps become my own?

Am I a hypocrite

Or just trying to protect?

--

I care not, pretend not,

What’s done is done,

What falls is meant to be fallen.

I lash out at the wall,

For inside holds no more room.

I crawl outside the darkness,

But his eyes outstare my cares

Everyday.

Secrecy is an empty gift box.

--

I consider telling someone—anyone—

Perhaps you,

But you’re tied to your own judgment.

And who could blame you?

I’m despicable, reprehensible, intolerable,

But so was he.

I am without reason,

But plenty of rhyme.

Without words

But plenty of lines.

I am like you,

Though a truer, blacker form.

--

Your thoughtful eyes outweigh my heart

As your hand strokes my back,

My eyes know tears only from fears,

Never sorrow.

You move behind me

Cajoling me with flowers, chocolates, sympathy,

But I don’t grieve,

Except for the fact

That I don’t grieve.

You tell me how fortunate

He was to know me.

My nod contradicts my thoughts

Creating lies

In otherwise silence.

--

I continue to weep selfish tears

With a heart carved in stone

Nailed to the ocean floor,

Cold and wet

And unmoved.

But I really am in mourning

Not for him

But for me.

I do not miss him,

But I miss my innocence

And my mind’s freedom.

--

You’re still here,

But I avert my eyes.

I cannot bear you

Wasting your kindness,

Relieving feigned emotions

With devotion to deception.

I shall know you no longer,

But wonder how much

I really know you.

--

Yes, we’ve spoken.

You’ve carried me to shield

My feet from the rocks,

Sung to me in times

When I’ve forgotten the key.

I’ve returned your gracious favors

Only in apathy.

--

Then I remember,

You’ve been standing behind me.

I turn to your face and see it—

A reflection of me.

Your eyes once caring and warm

Are fixated on the door.

Your smile once comforting—

Counterfeit and dull.

This is how I felt

After the knife went in,

While I had to pretend

I was sane.

--

I break—

What have you done?

You, a window, think yourself a wall

(I know much more than you think.)

My mouth opens and spits accusations—

I need to feel better

If I can’t merely be better.

Your smile doesn’t last

As my fears pass eternity.

I know what you know,

You know what I know.

You chase me,

But almost heroically

Like a knight’s faithful steed.

I scatter and splatter my name

Like an unruly palate of paint.

Winded I rest and turn my head

No direction unexplored.

You aren’t here,

But are you?

I heave once more, start to run, and realize

There is no escaping you

Or I.

We are one.