rosebud...

not my last words...yet

it swells up in my stomach

until i breathe fire

and turn into a shadow monster

incapable of love

forever unknowable to the world.

in the midst of my thrashing

a glimmer in the corner of my eye,

and i am a child again

timid and weak

as i walk down the hall

broken like a crystal globe

dropped on the floor

by the hand of a deadman.

"i gave her my heart,

she gave me a pen."

the ink's all dry now,

but you preserved the shell.

"i don't think any word

can explain a man's life."

there's comfort in that

to always be an enigma

no matter how public

a private life can be.

i would like to believe

a lonely man can find comfort

in a lost memory.