A_Perfect_Sonnet

Ben Stivers
5/15/07

Holding Your Breath 'Til You're Blue In The Cheeks

You say that skating thin ice will only drown you,
That after the thrill is gone, your sunrise will come.
And every day you sat on the hillside,
Putting words down in sketchbooks,
Never with the same color ink.

On those pages you drew places you'll never see,
Girls you'll never fuck,
And things you wish you were.

Now you only play sad songs.
You lament the days as they pass you through and across
Their ever moving palms.
They mourn your growing old.

If this is what you came for I hope you never make the trip home.
If this is what you meant when you said gone is better than alone.
Well this mirror doesn't do you justice anymore.
I keep changing the glass but all I can see is myself.
And we will cheapen your funeral with the worst drawn-out goodbyes.
Like the beaches you once knew, our ashes scattered in the tide.
I don't think anyone has the nerve to harp a single chord...
Except for me, I have drowned myself in those words.