And we had a requiem for the boy who’d never cried. We wore black and mourned for the soul who’d never flied. A line of men in suits and ties. Carried a womb of fears and lies.

And we sighed and talked of regrets in a dark smoky bar. While the ice in my drink disappeared. And along came the clouds that I’d feared.

And in the pool of water from my melting drink I saw something I’d never seen. A vulnerable blur where my reflection had been.

.

We’ll move house. Separate rooms. I’ll call most. Dead bride for groom. No more waking to your requests or acquisitions. Our separate baptisms. Serve us well. Post haste. Quick chase. You’re losing my mind. I’m winning the war. This should be an easy fall. Dripping but never leaving the body. Spilling our infinity on the cotton sheets. Our love is just a liquid cure for sexless nights. Dusk hails. Darkness prevails. I’m living on the walls. Blood travels through the halls. Scenes from a movie play in my head. Memory gets eaten away by the open gate. It’s all too late. Six months isn’t that short compared to eternity. But isn’t that why we don’t try? You’re racing for the finish but cliches are a dime a dozen. There’s plenty more fish in the sea if you’re willing to dive. Let’s hope he’s still alive. Check the tag. Most instructions don’t apply now. I’m willing to give it a go if you are…

.

Maybe I’ll get drunk and lose myself In St Petersburg or Prague or somewhere else where I can be soulless. Because I love to hate and listen and write and take and take and take and take and, and, and to breath. It’s worthless to lose something that was never worth anything in the first place. But that’s what I do, how I feel, how I felt. To be soulless, soulless like the poets that I read in the dark of my head. Rehearsed sonnets and verses seem so taunting at night. Grey mottled hand turning silicon to gas. The car won’t run on your avalanche road. So he took me aside and cried. Told me of a time when he wanted to die. I just touched his lips, silencing him, because his fears they mirrored my abyss.

.

I look out the dirty window and can see the reflection of my face encompbumed by the blinking city lights. White embrace home. Red extricate the known. Rippled water reflects illuminated skies. Confusion lies in curtained windows. Tiny yellow squares on a matchbox house. I close my eyes and I see beacons flash around my head in a kaleidoscope pattern. Like diamonds coruscating in the candlelight. Even in my own darkness I can’t escape the daybreak. Three short blasts from the tug boat signalling departure. A rapid morse code secret escapes my lips. A peaceful drowning. A garden of eloquence. A sideways glance. A path to the sun.