soon i will only
be fluttering paper,
or the closing of a door

the loss of seeing clearly
into your
lifeline

when i look in your eyes
i see
the wounds of diminished
hope and the refurnishing
of another soul
sometimes in the calmness
that i spell into
on lonely washed out
weekends,
you can find me stretched
out past
my limit and drawn hazy
into the weaving pattern
of future tense anniliations

when i have to be focusing
on getting 'now'
right

but you won't understand

and you won't get
that you don't understand

so before you weigh yourself
down
on me,

learn to match your lifeline
to my fractured blue
one

and open yourself to
my grief rhythm