you told me i was pretty, like the snow that had just fallen but a different image of snow was impressed upon my mind; that of the second day snow.. not ugly, but not pure. (i told you what i was thinking, but you dismissed it like a knife that never broke skin and reassured me that i was yrs, that i was beautiful in every way but my attention was elsewhere by then, mostly concentrating on the way yr arms moved to wrap themselves over and over again around my waist) and it was all we could do to wait for the sun to come and wash us clean again. and then we died. atrophied, i lie there alone and forget to breathe. take in the air slowly polluted with the words i never got to say.. i inhale them and i inhale you, but you aren't there and i'm imagining things again.. like cold winter snow pouring from yr eyes on a hot summer morning. daggers of phrases and letters severed my heart, tore it out from my still chest. i lay bleeding on the floor as you cry for what you've done. automobiles and photographs .. exhibited in a linear progression .. straight lines and geometrical shapes make you up to be something more than a lingering memory.. transparent ghostly images do more than haunt me now.. now that i have nothing left except for math. the numbers fit, but i sure don't. i raise my fist in a brave effort to fight off yr smiles, stretched with a sorrowful knife from ear to ear. and it just makes me feel fake. the breathing, the talking.. to you, it's all just a coughing fit - scene one - in a broken down bathroom where the germs are from lies and sacrificial tongues. i forget what nights are like, i'm asleep before you leave town. it's recycled to the point where these tired fingers want nothing more than to hold what remains of ruined salvation.

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