your picture reminds me
of a silhouette, of
a shaky shadow in the
distance, a ghost of
my past, a rememberance
of the future.

you were my aching sustanence
once, but we grew up too
soon- you wanted a beard,
and i, a diamond crown.

i wonder, as i lay alone
in a tangle of bedsheets,
if you have achieved any
of your midnight-star
wishes, or

if you ever think of me.

i used to think we'd steal
the world, you and i,
and that if we disappeared,
it would always be
for the better.

but here we are:
nonexistants in a world
where it hurts most to
take solid form;

so i have drawn us
with a dotted-in contour,
shading in our faces; de-
preciating us until all we are
is names & fading photographs,
and all that's left between us are
some years we'd more than like
to forget.

11/20/2004

Author's Note: first thing i've written in about a month. i am dry and withered ; and i am squeezing out everything, if there is anything left at all.

Posted on 11/21/2004
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