(...) we've synthesized a compound to treat this conscience,
it's:

one part loss,
one part no sleep,
one part the gun shot we heard,
one part the screams mistaken for laughter,
one part everything after,
one part love,
one part stepping out of the driving rain,
one part parting ways,
in the cold apartment. don't look back,
just keep running down the stairs.
do you hear the footsteps?
can you hear the voices in the traffic,
communiques in the attic?
they say, after time,
all this will heal,
we will rebuild and these broken arms will mend
themselves
in our
embrace.

(thursday)