Let’s talk about something else
said my sister who hangs a star,

underneath her tongue and writes
about love in French stories.

Tragedy is when the neurologist
tested you, and found a lump inside

your brain. Suddenly you were
no longer in the middle of earth—

a girl standing alone on a cliff,
wrapped by darkness.

Waiting for a warmed hand,
like memories opened

by the image of love on
a screen. There are always

goodbyes—at sunset say goodbye

to hurt   to suffering    to the pain
you caused others and yourself.

And when the night came as a
lonely boat of stars,

you walked into dust.