The Thin Line

A dim light cast
O'er open seas
A weathering crash against
The heart
She watches the moon
Slink into obscurity
By the hour
Awaits white sails upon
The empty horizon
White sails that will
Never come

The rim of a glass
Painted in lipstick
A swallow of wine
Stagnates, as the mind
Wanders over
Piano keys, her aged fingers
Reluctantly following
The yellowed pages
Before her, playing
A tune that will
Fall, as her sorrows have
On empty seats

A pile of plates
And forks, gathering
Mold in the kitchen sink
Two place settings, untouched
In weeks, while she
Cradles a plastic cup
Stares into her reflection
Browned
By the liquid within
A shaking hand lifts
And she consumes herself
Quietly

A body collapsed
'Neath the searing heat
Grit covers her
Dry tongue
As quiet winds
Come and go
Her chest heaves
One last attempt
To breathe, maybe
The night will come
And pluck her from
The grave

They'll not know
The luxury
Of crafting the pages
We read, as bright-eyed students
Who think the world of
The world
But their contribution
Should not go unnoticed
For they are
The human condition
Embodied

We suffer tragedy
And forge our greatest
Memories
As we mimic the moon
Sink into our own
Sadness
We wind our clocks
Every day
Never to leave
Our seats
We watch them tick
As we age
Never to believe
We were just like them

A childhood gone missing
A smile absent
Conviction
We are these things
As easily, as we are
Human beings
And our lives shall not
Be covered in light
But characterized by
Varying shades of gray
We will fight to retain
Innocence
In the face of
Overwhelming evidence
That even as children
We were merely
Unaware

And what of love
We'll whisper
After our company is
Long gone
And what of faith
We'll wonder
After our flaws have gifted us
With doubt
Ne'er to remember
That as we've grown older
We've come to terms
With all things being
Temporary

A dim light cast on
The rim of a glass
Amidst a pile of plates

Her body collapsed as
Her childhood absent
She consumed all she was

A reflection
Of the past.