Sterling silver, once around my neck
lies coiled on the tile
in a serpent arabesque;
double-crossing the cross along its chain,
reminding me again
of the paradox of things,
which are seldom what they seem.
When, at times, words run dry
and actions spill their hollow contents on the floor;
when, at times, you feign a smile
and leave bloody handprints on the door;
words may come and words will go
and someday we might find
that these words we needed most
are the same we left behind.
You’re out of sight
and out of mind,
but only on the surface.
Sight is gone
but thoughts go on,
and thoughts are ever restless.
So, out of sight
and out of eye;
but never out of mind.
You always leave a residue;
a reminder of some kind.