The Last Stop

Embellishing old memories to mean new things. It's a sort of re-purposing of words... taking a discarded thought and making something pretty out of it.



Sadness is
a swimming
pool, rimmed
in a thin fingernail
of cement.

Sitting, at night,
on its edge,
the water was
Illuminated from
underneath.

Feet naked,
thoughts jagged,
I thought you could
save me.

I stared
into the bottle
of a drink I
didn't want.

I handed it back
to you. I didn't
speak when I left.

I searched for my
shoes as my footprints
evaporated behind
me on the sliver of
concrete, an erasing of
existence.

It felt like
that. Like I
had never been.

I doubt you
turned to watch me
leave, vanishing
footprints, behind the
wooden fence.

There was nothing
in the alley but
my empty hands.