find happiness in small things (he said); in a beautiful sunset

in the heartwrenching blue of summer

in short-sightedness, in selective amnesia



we are below the greatest screen of deceit

(in space there is no sky)

under, the plants do not get watered

a house sitting still without you in it

(almost waiting)

this brute that refuses to forget

attempting to resurrect you with magical thinking

(today, i cooked your favorite)

(today, i took your book with me)


come night and i will chain myself again

while the flowers rot in the vase



the sky is not infinite, from this grave

sunrise does not wash away any of these sins

nor do i need to witness one more instance of it

(if i can help it)

i do, after all, still keep your knife