I wonder what memories revive,
when you touch my hand or see my face.
Is what is old new again?
Are you lost in pillars of memory,
which impose the will of this broken architect?
Do my building still stand strong,
tall,
beautiful?
What power emanates from them,
and what force of will overtakes you,
when the sun catches their corners?
Do you still dance in the great hall,
of our lost, and broken-down love?
Skin,
eat this water.
It is necessary.
Warm , salty water crawls,
down chiseled cheeks,
rolling off a hero chin;
no sustenance.
Jets of hot water slap,
my thick hair and blank face,
my skin refuses to drink it in.
A ghost walks into my shower,
observing the way I am curled up,
helplessly soaking in chlorinated fire,
no chemicals kill these feelings or memories.
The ghost sighs,
unable to affect me.
A lonely time,
with delusions for company,
and the weight of loved ones' feet,
pulverizing my fragile, fleeting sanity.
I failed you,
I failed you,
I failed you,
as a lover,
and a friend.
The blood has drained,
the night has settled,
but the love won't leave.
I pour words onto the pain,
pain uses me in return by,
pointing out the futility,
of everything I've written.
Pain questions my words,
and on bad nights,
my dear friends,
I do the same.
You can read these words,
and feel sorrow touch you,
but you're not here anymore,
and no comfort finds me here.
There's a beast stirring,
underneath the calm waters,
of a toxic pool you left long ago.
Do you remember him?
Sleep is sacrificial,
It dies for thoughts,
which take precedence,
in the harshest of times.
My hands won't stop shaking,
there's a broken-down undertone,
to every smile and laugh now.
Fragmented thoughts,
crumble together with empathy,
as naked friends lying together,
seeking a warm body,
secretly,
a warm heart.
The crumbling solves nothings,
the foundation it creates,
can't support a home,
nor would it want to.
One can only run away,
from their thoughts for,
a certain amount of time,
before they catch up to you.
They'll clutch at your heels,
rip at your tender, exposed flesh,
pull their way under your virgin skin,
until they become as much a part of you,
as the constant numb that invades your days.
We're told all our lives,
there is a time for strength,
never a time for weakness;
but they're wrong, broken.
Weakness exists, and,
humanity is weakness.
Numb,
floating,
helpless,
splitting the water,
as I drift,
towards nothing,
significant.
What matters?
The tears,
touch down,
on paved street,
reeking of asphalt,
and blurry memories.
It was never enough.
Heels echo,
in crowded corridors,
where the rug tries to muffle it,
and fails miserably.
Pressed shirts,
dark pants and ties,
a gathering for a fallen,
cherished and loved one.
Pain spikes through,
the numb feelings that,
reside in fractured hearts,
pouring blood into your soul,
swelling it with pain and bruising.
Life's not easy,
and every loved one,
eventually leaves,
until you leave them.
Cold reality,
and I love you,
don't ever forget that.
I hope I don't,
leave you first,
I couldn't bear,
the thought of you sad,
on my unworthy account,
my dearest of friends and loved ones.
Times are tough,
and they'll get tougher still,
but we hold hands and heart,
and rebel against death the best we can.
That's the only way.
1:03,
and it's a special day,
a big dawn coming for all.
We will remember you,
always,
memories of you,
indestructible,
vivid.
I remember you smiling,
in no-so-distant flashbacks;
your benevolence changed us.
An angel passes,
we must all grow stronger.
Andy Veilleux 