Of all the things you pushed on me,
I understood it the least.
I did not have the capability to learn it
Nor you to teach it,
And nothing more must be said of us.
A amethyst on our once-collective mantle
where the fireplace has long ceased to be alive
An oold apartment,
Musty
Sleazy
In the heart of the old world in Sudbury
Is now abandoned of the emotion that once exploded it to so many lives and demises that any sort of count is impossible.

Hollow ppl may reside there with our skeletons
They are puppets in comparison.

Pant hangs onto the walls,
Although for dear life,
From the wars we waged,
With each other, the outside world,
And inside.

There’s a love laid to rest in that casket that has halved my being,
And crippled you.

A puppet walks on,
Clunky and awkward as puppets do,
And the old ghosts stalking are left feeling pity in place of anger.