Crestfallen joints collapse into an unmade bed 

The anvil of grief weighs heavy on the flesh

Breaths are shallow and utilitarian.

Racing visions of past quips dribble out 

Of a head-bank of forsaken pleasantries 

 

The questions never cease to repeat themselves—

Internal beckonings and reckonings plague

The body and the mind and the spirit.

Numbness seeps in through the open cracks 

And solidifies like mortar in a broken wall

 

To bear the judgements on one’s chest 

In bleeding ink scrawled by an unfamiliar hand,

Leaves a mark of permanence on the heart; 

It is not removed by waters of disdain,

But by time one can no longer afford to spend