looking at his eyes closed
reminds me of having you
to put my finger on
your lashline so beautiful
so sorrow
that pale skin that is mine
mine how much I miss you
o the bottle-green of you
your eyes, your body falling
god you were alive
now I can see it
you are not a paper doll
and I am not
oh the bottles, so different
the sweet drink of you sparkling
and in my pocket
the dark brown bitter
that turns me inside out
I don’t have you
I don’t have anyone
the eyes are open
and now I know I
