the old i saw

eight months ago, i wandered, mindless

reflections of heavy-weighted footsteps were rippled and shocked

over and over

until they swallowed themselves, unpleasantly

and sank with the ship i had tried to burn centuries ago.

bitterness in an attempt of blankness

i wished to start again;

i watched for the universe's response

only saw glimpses of a head, shaking

and the furrowed reminder of her disappointment in me.

i heaved and panted at the clock

but it was only another futile reason to come alive and preach

to my demons that i was fine

a truly, fine-print liar.

who tricked them once again

for mistaking my hot iron stakes as a bouquet of pretty dandelions

was the only amusement i could offer my cold eyes

and stubborn heart.

~