this is the silence of your lover’s waning back,
and moonlight on nail and bone.
this is an ocean of unsaid words;
this is ink sinking past your palate,
sliding across your tongue, down your throat,
making you taste the last words
you ever said to him.
this is tar beneath battered pores
and flesh the color of evening sky,
and these are the hopes and fears
and suicidal dreams
of the people who capsized like ships
to unseen hurricanes.
be silent, for this moment,
and let me tell you of their pain.
walks with marks
of a suicide victim on her arms.
is something that you would assume.
but what you don’t understand
is that she knows what it’s like Read more »