Reusch

A poem about poems- specifically, a group of them found in a basement around this time last year.

There were flowers there for me as well,
and here was there before.
Just a half step to the right, my friend-
Has it ever rained indoors?
If he never even saw her,
if she never said hello-
The path to heaven shot to Hell?
Wouldn't explain the snow.
Just how far can one soul reach alone
on the rivers of the heart?
Will the pieces scattered to the wind
unite or fall apart?
Oh, and everywhere leads somewhere, yes
in this your words ring true,
but from here my somewhere looks empty-
It's leading straight to you.
Find that one white cloud in clear blue skies,
once again so hard to see.
Let the fire chase the dragons down,
and find the bones in me.
Who on earth remembers everything?
Does that mean it's not real?
Yes, pretending to forget won't work,
but some wounds never heal.
Don't ignore it all- it's pointless,
singsong voices in your head.
Being scattered, broken up inside,
is just like being dead.