Full-bodied laugh rumbles,
rocking your body,
escaping a black sinkhole.
I've earned your echoing song
that stops too soon.
You're a dying star,
suffering in secret silence.
The stench of chili
churns my stomach,
a surprise last supper.
Missing beef crumbles on ranch-drizzled pizza,
arms-linked, light hearted getaway
into narrow darkness.
Sudden fluttering of veined paper,
to mouth "happy birthday" like an apology.
only to be haunted by your silent "I'm sorry."
You sit with me in a screen-lit living room,
from a container of sterilized skin and sharp bones -
star debris, after the explosion.
like my skin is welcoming ice crystals.
With the rippling of translucent cloth,
I'm inside a glass case
searching for you on the outside.
stuck hiding from a giant, inky eyeball
that swallows children.