He made a mark in the night sky with speech like snow,
little white lies that made Love look like a puppet show,
cut the strings, broke the ring, bent the halo,
was it a fling or a mingling of shadows solo?
What didn't kill him only made him angrier.
If he could kill the chemistry he'd use piano wire.
Slipped around the neck asphixating 15 years of habit.
So the slit wrist of Reason no longer needs to pull a rabbit.
The hat trick is complicated, smoked out, roped up & sedated,
What the hell measures sobriety when fantasy is overrated?
We're all alone. Period. Blood pumps but flesh decays.
Comma. Coma. There's no more empathy if you don't believe in the grave.
He wrote a love letter on the back of his stabber.
"It's you not me that will be hanging from a rafter."
He broke down the walls that he'd built to avoid disaster...
& opened up his arm to embrace this new forever after.