Left a chalk self-portrait on her mattress
Then cleansed my skin in the rain
The streetlamps and lobbies just listen
Must be the moonlight that beckons again and again
Calendar countdowns and train station shifts
White sheets lay under the true candidate
Confession in murmurs and indisposed sighs
Truth's in the once-blue, now graying eyes
Bindings and bookmarks soiled in the prints
Of covetous fingers dipped in black ink
As the reason for tossing their works in the flames
A guardian's ghost framed in the pane
Under rustling of satin, intervention in vain
With the pretext of speakers and lavender lights
A selfish duet crescendos in time
Early April showers and mahogany hair curls
Draw crimson from under the skin
The band-aids and bracelets just masking
The sole thing that ever touched her within
In the darkest of backyards, on sanitized grass
The nurse lays aside her own ailing past
Reception in silence, culmination in gags
With awkward young smiles, this walk is our last