Reflections

Listen to me.

We are the paint peel chipping,
dangling over the prickly
bushes,
waiting with an eye
toward falling.
I wonder who I will be
when I am cut and
bleeding -
I wonder who I will be
when I have
given up.

It is like the blanking of
a color screen,
the bleaching of dark
green carpeting.
Hold my hand for just
a little while.
We are moving
and fading
on and on.

And you have become all
of what is to go.
Once you were the buttercup
dripping,
dislocating the litter
lodged inside of
me,
when now I have
nothing inside
to lose.

Yes, I wanted to hold your hand,
for just a little while.
But we are a love song
moving and
fading
on and on...