I felt you burn against me like a wounded sun
An icon to many but a god to none
You were no one:
A machine gun.
Drawn into corners, a forgotten amen
Boot prints in sand, the forgotten man
At home, you weren't forgotten
Loneliness imposes - a blank sheet composes
Our dresser is dripping with graying roses
It is a calming necrosis.
It is soothing hypnosis; borderline psychosis
Another mechanism to mourn this -
I am a shadow of you.
Who I was is unimportant.