Existence

when your existence becomes heavy on the skin
of others, what do you do? Do you slowly wrap the
skin around with a warm blanket of your words
or tear open the scar the rusted kitchen knife gave
you? perhaps, you do nothing, take a word, tease its
meaning out and leave it hanging like wet clothes like
a flag post of all your failures, there it flaps its wings
in half mast itching your memories in their shadow.
perhaps you just wrap it around like a torn shirt
in your old rusted iron trunk and forget it for
a mourned winter when you will again hibernate
from love. Perhaps you do nothing at all, just wait,
a patience wrapping it arms like a shroud on your
dreams, the skin peels off in slivers like droplets from
leaves, the leave left thirsty for rain and you for love….
slowly you begin to forget her, and she you
your words which provided a cushion in
tired nights mean nothing at all, the mere sign
of your being, a tired memory of a lost battle
with happiness ..and you drool over
the taste of wine and the lost aroma of coffee.