You were a friend once,
though I remember not when
You, the heart within a stone
not warmed by any star
Or grace
You were
the monster under my bed
You were
The smoke as it rose
The dance of battle reflected by flame
As brick flakes and crumbles
under the dragons’ fire
in cobwebbed corners of my mind
You were the doors flying open
when I had run out of crime
The pale hands on my heart
that keep it beating
The zippo caught and flared, a crime
that took my breath
but kept me breathing
I search for a faint flutter
for even a trace
to prove I am alive
That you are not all we are
That somewhere, I may still linger
without having become you.
