The transparent hands
Of time, swing me
Softly from side to side like a rocking ship

Caught against the current of my grief;
From past to future,
From here to there;

But never now,

I only move backwards

Through time;

Only relay the forgotten

Like the now;

Only live through the memories

Of the gone;

Only beat to the rhythm 

Of the dead,

A broken hourglass

Staining your palms

With sand;

The now and the would

Have been,

The should have been;

The never

Will be,

The never 

Will be,

 Drown out hunger with stale red wine on a Monday night;

Time has no meaning when all meaning was buried with her

On that day no one had the courage to talk about, but alas,

Here I am, singing and reciting her obituary like

My bones were modeled from such disaster;

Like the pain made a throne for hope to sit,

Like I did not search for her spark in every elderly persons eyes

I've ever came across;

Like looking for a needle amidst a hay stack,

Like searching for someone who had mirror eyes

To reflect back my own gaping hole of resistance;

A refusal so strong it broke my bones at every dusk

And rose to mend them at every dawn,

I sing for every inch of sorrow she felt

Moments before her head met stone 

In a silent agreement of the end

I look for her in every mother, in every sad story I've ever heard,

In every bottom of a bottle; In every faint smile from a strangers lips

I look for her in every sunrise, And every time the sun sets

Reminds me of another day recklessly spent

Searching for someone I will never

See again

 / It's okay that you don't answer your phone for days/ Your ringtone is his favorite song and your father sends angry texts and you wish he'd call instead so you could hear the song play until the very end/ It's okay to fall in love with men who have long hair/ their patience to grow out their locks means they have enough patience in their bones to deal with whatever storm you have brewing under your sickly sweet smile/ It's okay to leave the light in your room shut for days/ The sun always shone much brighter outside despite your mind being a lightbulb full of slideshows from that wretched day, long time ago/ How her purple curtains swayed gently in the breeze; a final breath of forgiveness you'd turn every stone to find, but yet a small part of your heart still calls out for a phantom of a mother that had to depart a moment too early/ It's okay to write too much about it, and drink too much about it, and cry too much about it at work while the boy across the street relays stories about your sunken eyes and how they remind him of two gaping holes where all the hurt comes to the surface to meet the light of day/ It's okay to only see the world through pain/ We seek the life we were brought up into/ It's okay to catch the plane you were so scared of and leave behind everything you've ever fought to keep/ Hide away into the snow and make the cold tremors your friend/ Discard close relatives like shirts and change your hair again/ Anyone who has ever stayed will understand, even with heavy hearts/ It's okay to scream into the night with a coarse voice, blame God for the unforgivable ache in your chest that sits like a rock amidst your vocal cords/ It's okay to spit gravel into the mouths you've ever kissed and call it love, anyone who stays surely has a death wish/ Anyone who stays surely will leave as hot coals burn under their feet; they will make you feel as if loving you was a sordid mistake, as if your heart burned with so much smoke and hurt; a church on fire, hands dripping with gasoline while you point fingers at others for the making of your own calamity/ It's okay to listen to the same songs on repeat; matching the sorrowful repetition of your heartbeat on days where the light stays shut and your mouth is sealed with all the promises you tried to keep but failed/ It's okay to be the first one to depart/ You've been training your whole life for this/ Shout withdrawal into the night and dissipate like the sweat off your back on that hot summers day you tried to warn him of your ghost like hands and how they melt into his palms like warm wax/ It's okay to stick like tar onto his skin; a constant black reminder on how you never let yourself fall in love with a fictitious tale/ It's okay to be a warning, a bitter lesson no one has the courage to live by/ It's okay to buy wine late at night with makeup running down your face/ Show them all what they are so afraid of feeling; life moves like a strong current against the mellow of your heart and sweeps everything in its path/ It's okay when you don't answer your phone for days/ It's okay if  you shower too often or not at all/ Some days you keep him on your skin and others you tare down the walls of hope apart and rebuild an empire out of every missed call he's ever had the courage to leave/ Ever had the courage to call/ It's okay to have his favorite song as your ringtone/ When your messages are dry, and his bed is stained with another girls love; at least 

You still have his favorite song

As your ringtone

At least he still lives on,

One way,

Or another

And what would

We even talk about?

How rosy your cheeks 

Have become without 

Me there?

How shallow my eyes

Have become without

You here?