strawberry runners have overgrown
evening rains loud on the tin
crumpling in rum glasses
an atomic din caught inside
and i am not the same
i tried to die twice and i failed
snuffing out stars and the sun and the moon
even galaxies and nebulae
i tried to die because
i could find no other way to be closer to you
is it really a bad thing? suicide?
i wear my skin loose,
raw around eyes that are lodestones-
sinking but powerless
am i not dead already? why do you don’t ask?
is it because you know?
even the atmosphere
has a shape now
and i still don’t know what to fill
this magnifying gap with