I told you I was empty, but you didn’t listen.
I told you there was nothing left but rain
And foul weather, violent breakers battering
This rocky coast where wind has swept away the grass,
Leaving only bitter sands to drink the sea,
Cold and porous fossils of a better season.
I told you I was derelict.
I told you I was wretched and abandoned
Grains of dust ablated from a vaguely
Recollected time when days were light
And evenings liquid pouring languid
Rivulets of hours and minutes,
Viscous slips of time to savor nonchalantly
Til they boiled away and dessicated,
Leaving acrid beds of wasted years
In which I traipse through baited sleep
To catch a morning always sinking.
I told you I was nothing more.
I told you I was gone, but you still search
And come up empty.
I told you that my revenant would never come,
That there never was an epitaph to read,
But you still attempt to parse some faded
Passage etched in sunlight drowned beneath
Swells of cold inclement tides.
I told you I would never rise above the waves.
I told you, but you disagreed.
And now I hear your tears
Like rain across the water’s skin
And listen to your hopeful song,
Your sadly optimistic requiem,
Gasping in the depthless inundation at a loss for words.