to miss

my ears have heard

words and utterances

some warm some cold sharp void of life

i fill a dropper full of lies and squeeze them in my eyes

but they roll out eventually

the heart can’t be made a fool even if it’s mine

i haunt the streets and alley ways i pick at crates and smoke away the vision of a miserable creature

whose love just ran away and left her with no direction

in my nightmare the flying carpets are ubiquitous and free

the torment starts when you stop by to tell me about my sorrows

the roses pluck at their own thorns as if they know i won’t come back tomorrow

mbrazfieldm (c) 2020