Growth

When an important person leaves, you have to move on.

I want to drink from the aquarium of your mind

But all you do is pour it into water balloons and drop them on my head

After the third or fourth burst of plastic and explosioun of water 

On top of my head and covering my whole body

I start to itch

Its cold and dark and the afterimage is still on my eyelids 

While your skeleton shivers and shimmers like a memory

I delve my hand into your funny looking bones and all I find is empty space

It’s not the emptiness that’s troubling it’s the space between things

Like the enormous space between a person and the train that might carry them away

The infinitesimal space between a koala and the leg that it clings to 

Wishing very hard that the leg was its mothers

But it happens to be a tree that grew from the ground

Raising up the koala with it without an explanation it didn't move or waver like a mother would

The train sprouts steam into the air and lets the world know it’s a foggy and devious world out there

I look at your feet and I want them near me

Not in my mouth or anything it's not like that

But I want them

Not to be carried away by the monumental trees of your legs

Which would have stood so sturdily

Were it not for the glimmering all powerful will that drove them to walk forward

Step after earth shattering

World shattering

Pieces of the world floating away

Step

A thousand mirrors break simultaneously

And the shards impale those you used to love

Some pieces just stick to the hot wet skin and reflect

Catching the light and whatever still remains of the world

Though I can’t see it anymore

We were like a sloth and a cheetah

The sloth put its tiny nose in the warm air and felt the sunshine

And wanted to melt into the cheetah below

The cheetah stretched and thought

What the heck is on my back

I must shrug it off

But the sloth had no way of catching up to the cheetah

It left too fast

It got on the train

And the train puffed its steam

And the sloth and the koala and I

Were still here

Broken, we sprouted flowers

We became garden plots

Like my nails scratching your leg

Fingernails tongs of a rake sliding across your zen garden

A small plastic cactus is in the way

A hand plucks it out, instead of raking around it

This isn’t what zen is about

This is torture

And I became fertilizer because I felt like s**t

And the flowers I grew were beautiful til they died

And new flowers came

Until they were chopped down

And put in a vase 

With aquarium water

And a card that said

Goodbye

Author's Note

sorry for the language