Faceless (in style)

and gentle
like crumbs leading our path
my feet trailing
two steps behind
time

the paper planes fly
through amber wind
collecting the cargo
of our flaky
thoughts

and how i promised
your vacant face
i could figure out a Rubix cube
without your presence and without tweezers
this year

the dust never settles
as bark cracks and crumbles
from a struck tree we sat
beneath on a bowing bench in the half-light
burning stars

there like a gothic novel you made me convert to that ol' wicked smile
turned up on the edges as you were the only poltergeist
willing to hold my hand
as i picked wilting petals and took a perfected mental photograph of
this year

it could have been mentioned at least whispered
that the memories we leave here in this smog splattered day
only survive
while i care enough to keep these
thoughts

going it is written in my conflicting features
like imminent fire in my throat but heck we were never sure
about you were you
contented at least satisfied or passing the faceless tick of
time



("Drink up. I told you, I am one to over think.")