six months later

walden freeman

we need to stop this
synchronized stairfalling
down into early spring days
discover what comes from faucets
is not water
but tears we cried
when we were together recycled
to wash the skeleton
keys that haunt our closet doors
we fell out of
through the clouds that replaced
our vertebrae so long
ago

so i'll bury my ashes in a digital grave
stone chiseled with an enhanced epitaph
my face will not change

the world will changed
but my eyes will always see the same
i spend every night on the dance floor now