Inertia

Then that was it. The days that lit up and went out to ash, The mourning of the self whose throat I had slashed. Like carbon resurrects, Living and breathing in all its effects. Something that blooms out of so much death, The inertia that I have finally met. The smoke cleared, And there was a quiet that breached My thoughts, Like the naked Woman in my dreams. It seeped Out. And it was real; It was spoken aloud. I touched it like the warmness of her body As I hovered at her mouth. I held it in my hand like a gash; It ran too deeply into my skin to grasp. Yet it wasn’t my own; It was the excuse I used to gouge to the bone. It wasn’t like the night looking down from the ledge, Or her eyes when she followed me up to my bed. It was nothing like the view from far overhead. I made it like someone makes it home from death, And now tomorrow is all that is left.