unspoken

the sky is so cold
but who are we
to tell it otherwise

we pollute our mouths
and stream catalogs
of colors of sin
before our eyes

picking mistakes and
choosing our shortcomings
from a prepackaged list

she loves until she runs dry
and bitterness floods in
to take the place of her blood

he lives in flimsy equilibrium —
rejecting gravity because it
pulled him into debt and dejection
without the hope of struggling free

her make-up isn’t the only thing
she puts on in the morning –
the blue in her eyes peels back to
reveal a hole underneath,
too deep for most people to bother
when trying to locate her heart

she fills the void with
flashcards and angry music notes

singing her throat raw,
reminding herself that she’s
good for something

while I sift through
hours of silence,
working at
sewing on patches

but my cells strain
my hands fall tired

and I mesh with the air,
blending into invisible particles
that never carry light