TAR

You loom. Pitch

black, floating.

​

Leave it all

behind. You don’t feel

it anyway.

​

You injected Novocain

into my occipital lobe. Muting

the colors of happiness

and sorrow.

​

Come with me. I

can numb the pain.

​

Just like you clouded

my emotions. You’re the downer

that puts the pharmacy stuff to shame.

​

I will take care of

you. But only after.

​

I miss the blue

of my cat’s eyes.

The green of the cover

under the scribbles on my notebook.

The red of a cardinal from a dead

family member stopping in to check on me.

​

The bottom of the

pool settles blue.

The grass at the building’s

base grows green.

The blood on your razor

will corrode the metal red.

​

The quilting buries

my face. But you loom.