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.