can I ever truly tell you
would it even really matter
wasted words on deaf ears
the hands gripping
you pulling away
the walls closing in
pushing out the air
a walk somewhere
the dried earth
the rain falling
a stained photograph
how you touched me
without laying a hand
was it only some hideous pity
a reflection of myself
in a shattered mirror
that bastard
that bastard
that selfish bastard
you waved from the door
you looked small and alone
and it tore me to pieces
I keep returning
to all the places we left behind
and some we never went
wrought black and white
things passing by
just feathers dropping in a mind
and the pictures grow
and I may die
and you may never know
how much I truly loved you