Innocanza

in the fading half-light
i watched as your skin fell to the floor.
the years hidden within rustled on the water-damaged
floorboards, questioning of their whereabouts.
you always told me Mondays were better when it rained,
the sidewalks stippled with the drops,
the streets becoming a giant canvas for that pointillism.

if they told you it was going to be okay,
you could bet it wouldn't be.

in the fading half-light
i watched as a ghost was born.
the indecisive candlelight is a traitor,
crying their wax tears that always stay on their bodies, that
never evaporate.
well, today was Monday, and it had rained;
now look at yourself.
curious, skinless animal, so far away you are a mirage.

if they told you everything was fine,
turn around and run.