The Last

Author's Note: Maybe, probably, most likely the last.

21 poems all in all.

Goodbye, Dumdum.
///

I wanted to write you an eternal congregation
of embedded words and woven intricacies
that could come close to the poetry
that was so unapologetically you;
perhaps to convince myself
that I couldn't bleed out all over the words
until not a single of them was true.

I was grasping for the metaphors
and the little details of you
that had made you something inexplicable;
but lost them in the scrawl of ink
and the stains on crumpled paper
so I could bleed out all the poison
and formaldehyde your heart
had pumped into my system;
hoping eventually the trace you left
all over my veins
     would be forgotten.

And the stemmed flow of words
and the ink that won't run fast enough
to catch up with these echoes
only serves to remind me
that all those worlds are gone,
and their lights are flickering out,
dimming our universe down one by one.

So my dear, the door at the end
of the world is waiting
for you to go through
Until the keeper locks it up for good.
With the welded key as a reminder
that our adventures didn't last forever.
Our stars, our lightning, and our magic is gone
and it's time for us to take a bow:
     goodbye, my dear;
          it's all over now.