The eyes that watch me sink
In the abyss of her careless words
Wrapped like treasure in a poor man’s rag
They wait to know more

The hearts that feel me
Read waves of my silence
Like poems
Painted on a lifeline
Fading at six beats per minute

I still wear my heart like a sail
And my soul as an anchor
In brave moments
When your ghost appears
Intruding a dim lit home
I question

Why it is that someone has to die the death called ‘life’ for someone else to live?
Why are honest hearts left behind, lighting cigarettes like incense, reminiscing a promise unfulfilled?
How am I, again, the source of the fountain of your smile so unreal?
Why do I still burn in flames and you still fail to feel?
Who are we if not a tragedy like stars in the night skies daily choking on our human skins?

What this is is nothing but the cremation of your nicotine loaded handwritten sins.

I should spit your souvenirs goodbye
Saved in a pile of past
I keep trying to forget
But the memory is a compass
Guiding me through your pride
Keeping my scarred skin
Safe again


Amit Howard