Spry Griever

The window held no answer.

Thoughts still ate my mind like cancer.

I studied the tendons in my hand

But I couldn't understand

Their purpose.

She struggled at the surface.

Now a line of fixed smiles.

Keep your eyes fixed on the roofing tiles,

Just a vacant gaze.

These are strange days to grieve.

A party of dead leaves

And memories.

A series of soft speeches.

Homeboys gather in their breeches.

How can we find words that will

Remember her without sounding trivial.

I know I don't know how.

It comes as sure as the next season.

But I can't find a plausible reason.

We are infinitesimal,

But our grief enwraps us all

In it's breadth.

Your breath

Still hangs inside the receiver.

The leave has it harder than the leaver.