Imagined

Empty with a lowercase "e"

And quiet with a large "Q",

The space behind my eyes rings

With the quiet emptiness.

.

I dream of summer days

That never really existed

And soft touches that were imagined,

Dreamt beneath a cloudy sky.

.

But the smoke from the fire

We held to our lips was real.

The vile taste and cool touch of the can

Wasn't something I conjured up.

.

Those days never existed.

They were filaments floating

On the golden current of sinister words

Filling the cabin with water.

.

I drowned alone on those leather seats

Without ever stepping out of the car.

The airbags didn't deploy.

The windows didn't crack.

.

A bullet was shot through my chest

And I am empty, empty, emptied.

These words are a cycle,

The same sort of sounds smoothed together

With the wet cement of lies.

No stanza can hold the pain pouring

From words coated in gasoline,

The flickering match in my hand.

.

Silver Serpent Books

.

I usually try to give my poems some amount of closure nowadays but this particular poem is much closer to how I used to write when I first started poetry. Let me know what you think!