the burden of a memory

incomplete

and a wall that should have holes

burned in the plaster from her stare

the song of a heart

untuned

and a candle flame flicking

around a stinging silver lip

the whispers of a mind,

wandering,

and the unshed tears of a girl

too lost

too broken, but seemingly not broken

enough

cracked but not yet shattered,

thoughts scattered

in the wind

ain’t no one’s hands

holding her up but

the promises of selfish friends

and selfish sufferers

with broken brains baking dream pies

that taste like the longings of a better life

not good, just better than

a girl wishing she could fly or fall

instead of hanging limply alive from a noose,

strung up by

the children birthed of listening,

and killed for speaking,

lying slack on a line,

birds on a telephone wire,

still and cold

like a summer girl

who’s forgetting how to live

the burden of a memory

absent of a voice

is equivalent to a red shot bullet hole

through the skull of a girl who

only ever wanted to be

found