oh.

this frantic grasping in the dark
for things lost, boxed away.
I see a camaraderie,
gently stitched between us,
keeping my memories from drifting
(happy helium, oh how I'd float)
I want to burn those boxes
in front of you,
full of your words and your heart.
But instead
I embalm you behind glass,
watch you dance away, hand-in-hand with
her and them and never me,
without a care
for me and my frantic, grasping, gasping,
bleeding heart