At The Close

A split,

My god

Did this full get to

The point that we’re at.

In a bold font and

With a thin line

Signed at the bottom,

With poison on top.

And I don’t feel much comfort,

My faith is lost.

With a tacit endorsement of you,

I filled up my pockets with

Fragments of glass. Six

Whole shards, split at the start, a

Bottle in pieces at the foot of my bed.

When the end becomes too close

Would you be well enough that it never shows?

As I long for the comfort

Of an innocence cost,

And I don’t know these buildings,

I think I’m lost.