that faithful cigarette    
burns a hole
in her side,

displaced thoughts

           dance

along the corners

of her abandoned

room, as

slow boats rip

against

the high tides

of her troubled

                 mind

 

a selfless
suicide,             (vacancy)
plays a tune
behind those hostile
eyes;
her thin words
        etched

along the

    dotted line
 

who is she?
                    (a ghost?)
a piece of familiar
a shadow of
   yesterday
creeping up
from behind 
to pull you
under    
      (the ocean's 
      deep)


and the slow boats
still wander
just a throw from
the shore
as the waves still

          roar,

so i close

my eyes

and let the water

              in

~ A. L. Stippich