come calling

Why’d you rattle the windows

When you weren’t coming in?

The grey underneath my nails

Was finally turning pink

And I thought I could melt myself

Into candle wax

And pour my blue soul into a mould

To rise with the fumes.

But you’re here again,

Might as well stay for tea,

I was making some for me.

Your whiskers have turned to ice;

Have you been out too long in the cold?

I didn’t worry.

I don’t think I can anymore.

Old age will do that to you and much else

If you’ll stay that long,

But I’m sure you’ll find your way

To rattle at my windows again.

The walls are fading and so is the paint:

It’s been a while since you’ve been away;

And I thought I could hear the ocean

In the attic

But I’m sure it was just a wave.

I thought it would be a pleasant surprise when you saw me again

But you can see that time cares little for the kind.

Our peaches are dying on the trees,

The lantern won’t burn on anything but moths,

The keys to the locks turn all the way wrong

And the ghost of my body

Is drinking my tea.


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