No-Soul-To-Steal

That origami folded rock Of rough and clumsy edges Broke the fluid surface. This I imagined in slow motion, Crushed water and pockets of air Engulfing the deformed mass. The next was a pebble Smoothed into flawlessness Silken streamlined perfection. It met the river Only to be propelled by it's uneven body

This is not for you It's what you were, that I deadicate this piece of heart. And sometimes I still think about it. All of it, that wraps around the fragile stem of my mind and grows, only to be torn down on some new night out. And yet it doesn't leave. The bruising bitemark on my beating brain. That beats my hate. But I don't hate. And this seems late and still incomplete in it's form. Like you...like what we were. Incomplete. In our twisted unfinished orb, I felt distant. And you'll see it in my eyes, the way you never did. How it lingered back in my mind, and screamed into the night For you. To you. To leave.

And there's nothing to say. Only a hopeless disbelief. You are still there, in those tiny tabacco rooms of cats and old teapots that echo the smiling, safe backgrounds of my faint memories. I do not bring myself to believe some iridescent, white place above. Places such as that become taboo in these times and I feel nothing could outshine your soul. And the conclusion ending with you shining in some grey eternity erases the clean comfort such thoughts are supossed to provide. And I cannot picture when you fell, but nightmares portray it well, yet they are forgotten in cold sweat and sudden wakings into a black world, only to return in vivid