like you didn't crumple to the floor on blood ridden joints, your skin on the outside and your flesh still behind. like we wanted you to be more than just this beating mass of flesh, we wanted more than just the void thump, thump, thump informing us of your breath, but never of your consciousness. we wanted you to see, to feel the ice, brittle and sharp, each touch a sting, a needle point, piercing the surface of your mapped out skin. we wanted you to hear the sound of a hushed up voice, to hear what was been said even when no words could emerge. we wanted to shelter your pretty head in the entangle of arms - your ears pressed against point-to-burst hearts. like we wanted you to feel and then shelter you from feeling at the same time. something was better than nothing, and this has become nothing. grief is silent, and you spoke not of what occurred. dampness weighed in the air like perspiration on brows, as you became void and we had no way to stop the process of decay. no way to clench it in our shaking fists, to wait for it to burst against the carpals and capitates. never let it seep its way through the cavities of your being.
oh, we tried. hard we tried. now our eyes with splinters and our bones with creaks, we never tried. not hard enough, or we never could, or you never let us. your shoes were a glitter blur your hair a fuzzy halo of sequin dazzled mist, in the red drop of blood, we saw the reflections of our selves, and we got scared, itched away. green eyes not eyes did not seek, did not focus, or shutter. images of you, your grazed, pale limbs, your screams silent screams. oh those quiet, silent screams. that never entered any ear or any mind until your demise. in your demise, we reverse in the future to see. shield our eyes at the behind, the glare of the behind, the ugly, frightful glare of behind. we saw again for the umpteenth time, sinister cold, those flakes of snow melting in your hair, those frozen, glassy eyes, those fingers with no heat and that flesh a dull drum. our cautioned eyes, they always saw, but also hid, our cautioned eyes spoke foreign to the glazed, that never heard, but silent screamed - and our brains they falsified your silence, just a hush in the wind, or a cracking of a tree, we saw, we heard, we never felt. faint observers, your heart made of looking glass, reflections of blanched faces, desperation etched into the crinkle of every frown - in this demise, this silent, sad demise we shelter our eyes from the glare of realization*that we heard, only the things we had allowed ourselves to hear. and that you decayed, despite us.