Pearl

---distance is deceptive in it's entirety---

like a book without it's cover, is a lie, is a treachery,

and you take it without question.

i fumble with the letters that make the words

that make the sum of my experience, my days, my

whisperings.

this is such a farce, is a nuisance, to watch the hostile

monotony of the free-flowing dips and curses of a child

who can't remember, can't do anything right.

and you can't do anything right.

but it isn't burning like you thought it would forever, anymore.

it's a quiet wound with scars pink, to remember. you remember their names, every one,

like a catalogue, names names names, and

they

waltz

right

off

the page, and you keep calling them up, you melancholy babe.

it's nothing new, with you, you and your baths in old water

trying to reach for the sea, and you can swim, mind you. i've seen it.

you just fall short of the boat.

are you remembering? are you crying? is it my fault?

did i destroy you, every last bit of your future, is that what it was?

i don't have the answers anymore.

but it reaches me

into the shell of things.

oyster baby,

i hide

i collect

i watch,

and that's the tragedy, if there is one, don't you see it?

i see you for what you are,

and i have loved it, every second.

and you hide,

you collect,

i watch,

for all these years,

and i'm sorry, god-damnit, i'm sorry.

and it's not enough, though you say it is.

it's never enough.

oyster baby.