Closure

What do you look for

in the last phone call,

that last kiss?

Only a final stretch, a final say.

Does the mouth have the unknown antidote?

Does it meet the triumphant expectation,

the fateful responsibility of lips,

to change the already too set frame

of their opposer.

 

Is this closure?

No.

It’s like closing the door

of the chilling room

with the broken window.

You know it’s there,

in the back of your mind.

You know it’s in need of repair.

But you lack the tools and strength.

 

Closure.

It’s not the last goodbye.

It’s only forgotten

until ten years later you see him.

Not him,

but piercing twilight sky

that matched his eyes.

The song in the mall plays

as you recall his proclaim,

“this reminds me of you”.

A tear leaks

as rain slithers

through cracked glass.

 

Closure

It’s not a magic lock

Or  glue

It’s only an excuse

to keep pushing

the unmatched pieces together.

So blinding is the smoke

of the body’s own hearth

that it cannot see

the puzzle is crushed

 

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