Look Good

a charred blade
brought to your flesh.
in a state of indignity,
your body lays undressed,
in pieces scattered
across the scene.
a gray outlook
on a new meaning.

what little you say
should be ignored.
attention focuses
on the moving floors.
the leaves have fallen,
they now hide your feet
the motion of these hands,
never so indiscreet.

you don't want to feel
this way forever.
motives lost in September.
and something’s still missing in November.
will you ever understand
the motions played out
by the shadows hidden in the rain?
you can look all the harder,
but, they’ll still stay the same.

your skin is pale, and the flesh
hangs from your bones.
in endless clumps,
your hair falls to the ground.
pulled out in raging hours
you spend mostly alone,
in your closet, down the hall,
from the end of July,
beyond the end of fall.