last rites...

living and loving hearts beat words for us

their version of what tomorrow brings ours - has hours to prepare

looking at the padded ceiling - sealed with a stamp of finality

suffocating - as we wish leftover words will withstand

buried - to the idea of what we were

presence and energy - pages of script cannot endure

rhythm of time

end - from each side of your mind

flattened and mute

there was no say

there was no swan

there was no song

only stare to sky which now floats black

eyes - plant themselves into place

far - still

a story - a book end - walls from all sides