An Exclamation Point

I can't breathe your air.

I cannot go where the traces

of the blessed night go.

All I see is the black shroud

that wraps your mad soul.

Insanity allows you to relish

the ancient times,

the madman's thoughts 

wander again in the recesses

of solitude bought in

the grocery store.

I don't remember the first time

you introduced me

to your own God.

I forgot what side of the road

I was walking before I tripped over

your shadow.

Sorry,

the last tear has just been sold.

Before you hide in

the borrowed leather,

touch the broken life line.

To forget, I will become

an exclamation point at the end

of your question.