the graveyard sings again

I'll stay another day, 

amongst night-flowering jasmines, 

rain water dripping on my sleeve, 

waiting for a friend's laugh

harrowed by a chasm of dread. 

I'll stay another day, 

amidst a fading garden, 

with the sun burning my skin,

splintered by my mortality

and left with no breath in my lungs.

I'll stay another day,

aloof to those I once loved,

I see her everywhere I go, 

why do my feet deceive me, 

when I tell myself to run?

I'll stay another day, 

wishing I had a killer's hands,

wishing I could strip myself of this fragility

wishing I had someone 

who will not ask me to live with it.

I'll stay another day, 

knowing I'm not brave enough,

resigned to my misery, 

scorned, I watch those I love,

feign the normality I have been deprived of.

I'll stay another day, 

though I feel nothing else, 

seething rage is no weapon in my hands, 

it crumbles into my fatality 

like all I have ever felt.

I'll stay another day,

though every morning I die, 

shattered reflections rip my guts

when I wither into the darkened night–

poisoned by this time.

I'll stay another day,

for all those I love,

and bangles I haven't bought,

when all reason tapers to the edge,

I would take a knife to my throat than this.