A long ride down

It is not the absence

that will bleed

but the silence of knowing

they are somewhere else

being quiet present

like a flower that grows

in cement without a sound

while the concrete wears

each season, each blossom

and soon,

buildings collapse

and screams can’t be heard

from the outside

*

They tell you to tell

the truth

but this is a lie

for the only thing you can tell

is what you see,

but mostly

what you don’t

like when you were in love

but then weren’t

and you fought you

for honesty or something like

being a drunk on Mondays

only to find a sleazy sum

squeezed from authenticity

and words like it without will

or meaning:

you were the worst

and no one wants to love that,

especially not you

*

How is everything

so touched

by you

when I feel

so alone

and untouched

by you