I'm c r a c k i n g
at the seams, worn out and
I can't take it anymore. The world
hooks its loveless self onto me
and I can see runways over me,
blanketing a different kind of grief.
The sky towers with its neverendingness,
I either have too many words or none to fit in its synopsis.
I finger the imprint of you
in the air, the absence stings
and reminds me of fading acrylic paints.
Now in your place,
empty smiles plaster the sky
with a threshold of silence.