All My Friends Are Blue
A poem for loss
The sky smiled bluer today.
It sounds cliche to say
But it has done me wrong — it stole my friends.
It took my friends.
My friends are in the sky, they’re blue, they’re gone.
Everything catches either asleep or awake.
But everything catches eventually,
And if there’s a reason the sieve of death
Was not fine enough to catch me
I’d see it scrawled on the moon, I hope.
I nurture the creature of decay and pray
For answers, it tells me —
“All life is murky water under a rickety bridge
Held up by cobwebs and false hope.
Thieves know this, and steal from it,
And so should you.”
My friends have made the sky more blue.
The floorboards don’t whine anymore
Except whine at my own weight.
My house is clean.
Spotless. Mute.
I need them more than ever,
More than I wanted to.