The window held no answer. Thoughts still ate my mind like cancer. I studied the tendons in my hand But I couldn't understand Their purpose. She struggled at the surface. Now a line of fixed smiles. Keep your eyes fixed on the roofing tiles, Just a vacant gaze. These are strange days to grieve. A party of dead leaves And memories. A series of soft speeches. Homeboys gather in their breeches. How can we find words that will Remember her without sounding trivial. I know I don't know how. It comes as sure as the next season. But I can't find a plausible reason. We are infinitesimal, But our grief enwraps us all In it's breadth. Your breath Still hangs inside the receiver. The leave has it harder than the leaver.