they sat up on their bed
staring at the empty wall ahead
what was once covered with pictures and art
beautiful memories and dreams
was now empty with chipped paint and tape residue
a soft spirit walked in and held their hand
“what’s wrong?” she asked
they didn’t speak for the words could barely escape their tongue
they stared at the barren wall
“won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
they opened their mouth
a single tear slid down their stained cheeks
they could barely speak
but they could get out one word
“everything”

goodnight, to the pounding rain
and tear stained skin
everlasting dreams left paper-thin

I'm breaking like glass in my eyes.
Red painful barriers and flickering sight.
How much longer till my body will have dry bones?
Zombie walking, alien clown.
I'm still travelling.

I can't push myself through the pressure.
If I do, I will definetely break my eye.
So I stay up staring.
Maybe I will just float away.
I'll pray for it as I push my fist against my chest.
Gently touching the parts that are still intact.
Hoping it will be worth it.
Let's stay in this trance.

Let's walk
Let's float.
I will go on and find you.
And everything else will find me.
Cause it has to push deep inside.
Tear me open.

Break Time
by Michael R. Burch

for those who lost loved ones on 9-11

Intrude upon my grief; sit; take a spot
of milk to cloud the blackness that you feel;
add artificial sweeteners to conceal
the bitter aftertaste of loss. You’ll heal
if I do not. The coffee’s hot. You speak:
of bundt cakes, polls, the price of eggs. You glance
twice at your watch, cough, look at me askance.
The TV drones oeuvres of high romance
in syncopated lip-synch. Should I feel
the underbelly of Love’s warm Ideal,
its fuzzy-wuzzy tummy, and not reel
toward some dark conclusion? Disappear
to pale, dissolving atoms. Were you here?
I brush you off: like saccharine, like a tear.

Keywords/Tags: 911, victims, survivors, grief, loss, heal, healing, tear, tears, coffee, break, time, milk, artificial, sweeteners

I misplaced a tear drop
                                   into a jar full of collected rain.
  
Cloudy thoughts sway me forward to face the day
   ahead

Each Color a Scar
by Michael R. Burch

What she left here,
upon my cheek,
is a tear.

She did not speak,
but her intention
was clear,

and I was meek,
far too meek, and, I fear,
too sincere.

What she can never take
from my heart
is its ache;

for now we, apart,
are like leaves
without weight,

scattered afar
by love, or by hate,
each color a scar.

Keywords/Tags: love, scar, cheek, tear, intention, departure, separation, meek, sincere, heartache, leaves, falling, scattered, color, blood, scab, scabs