If I'd never known you

I fear

this porcelain boy would not breath

nor dance nor sing

and though

his steps

are feathers

on air

at least

he steps

at

all.

Never having known you

would mean

shelving his china

limbs

to collect

dust.

Dimming his painted

eyes

dull and lifeless

staring out

at world

waltzing on.

One must

never manufacture

reasons

for

springing

into existence.

It is within each

tiny

secret porcelain

heart

and

never to be

sought outside ourselves;

but lies

like these

like

fallen leaves

can only keep

their flight

so long.

Even heartfelt

too practical not to be real

Lies are Lies are Lies

and we all know their ilk

by the way they make us feel

hollow

inside.

Our happy thought

is

seldom

so selfish.

The one that moves

brittle ceramic

limbs

however gently

however feebly

to

whom

or

what

ever

it

was

that brought them

from the shelf

is

rarely rational.

And

Had I never known you

but only just wanted

to consume.

Only needed

the dream of.

Only wished for

in roiling

sheets

while sleep

waited impatient.

Only burned for

in secret mind

that conscious abated.

Only pressed upon once

and retreated

deflated

but no

to know

to have known

you.

To have seen

your chips and cracks

and wilted paint

you wear like all of us

and still be sure it was the only

light in the darkest of winters.

It made me move.

It made me live.

In the end it was worth

the scratches

the breaks

and

even this fracture

deep down

my frame.

Or rather to say

you

were

so

unquestionably

worth

it.

See You Around

It was the last thing I said to her.
In the empty house
by the dirty lake.

The last thing I may ever say
to her
I
suppose.
And
it came out wrong.

All of it came out wrong.

Cold and sharp
and
relentless in desperation.

And a few hours later
the world caught up to me
froze over
and
died.

It's been dead since.

It's cold
quiet
desperate
lonely
empty
desolate
space
where
even shadows seem
to recede as fast as they can.

Everything slowed to a stop
Broke down
Wound down
like a toy
organ grinder's monkey
spinning on it's side
it's key steadily fading.

The days light
is now ill
and sallow
cast upon gossamer
cracked ice
and caught in
frost on windowpanes.

Locking all this sorrow.
Holding it all still.
All the time
to suffer through
thoughts
endlessly until
worn thin
as a plume
of air
exhaled
in a freezing
mist.

So what?

So
the ice outside will
give way
pool out
into gutters
and make way
for elsewhere.

But my ice
is frozen.
Locked up solid.

Wound round
everything I once
let shine.

Ice that never thaws
because I won't let it.