gravel in my palms
but not clinging to your corpse
can't be soaked out by anyone's forgettance
no tears will divorce the loss from the gain
no bleach will clear away the stain
the mark that lingers on a calendar
reminders everywhere
but the date is an arbitrary number
not scheduled mourning
Mourning, that surreal watching
a license plate while I drive
its not me driving
I notice as I wait
for numbers and letters to emerge
the 3D image of a magic picture
Will go away if I destroy it
demolish all that steel
straight into a concrete median
crunch it completely
glass in my skin
particles I'll smell for a week
when I wake
the nightmare over,
the calendar not scattered with red circles
death's anniversaries all through the year
I dusted today
but it wasn't your ashes
I scraped away
The windows still streaked
by scars from my scalp
picked by nervous fingers
of someone else
Not someone who could buy you diapers
and change your clothes
but someone who escapes
into pages,
and lives far far away
in a fairy tale gown
veiled and ready
for happily ever after
someone who rids themselves
of traces of mud
bleaches out dirt of that day
insists that time sparkles with sequins
Even if squeezing-eye-tears streak the view
In this version
Grimm edited out the slimy dog bite
there's no hair to help the next day
You build your story the hard way
brick and tears
sweat and mortar
ashes and powdered glass
I notice car shrapnel
embedded in my tree's haunches.
push the red and purple bruises
covering my body
pain vibrant and dull as my skin
awaits the yellowing end to emerge
but not clinging to your corpse
can't be soaked out by anyone's forgettance
no tears will divorce the loss from the gain
no bleach will clear away the stain
the mark that lingers on a calendar
reminders everywhere
but the date is an arbitrary number
not scheduled mourning
Mourning, that surreal watching
a license plate while I drive
its not me driving
I notice as I wait
for numbers and letters to emerge
the 3D image of a magic picture
Will go away if I destroy it
demolish all that steel
straight into a concrete median
crunch it completely
glass in my skin
particles I'll smell for a week
when I wake
the nightmare over,
the calendar not scattered with red circles
death's anniversaries all through the year
I dusted today
but it wasn't your ashes
I scraped away
The windows still streaked
by scars from my scalp
picked by nervous fingers
of someone else
Not someone who could buy you diapers
and change your clothes
but someone who escapes
into pages,
and lives far far away
in a fairy tale gown
veiled and ready
for happily ever after
someone who rids themselves
of traces of mud
bleaches out dirt of that day
insists that time sparkles with sequins
Even if squeezing-eye-tears streak the view
In this version
Grimm edited out the slimy dog bite
there's no hair to help the next day
You build your story the hard way
brick and tears
sweat and mortar
ashes and powdered glass
I notice car shrapnel
embedded in my tree's haunches.
push the red and purple bruises
covering my body
pain vibrant and dull as my skin
awaits the yellowing end to emerge
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