to be better

how perfect is the sound
of the snow stirring and cresting
outside the window
to explain your misery

it's been months now
since you last
noticed a bird
or wrote down a dream

if you took all the mistakes
made and showed them
the wool in your warm
coat's lining
they'd manifest cooly
into a deaf ghost who shouts
throughout the night
"what about the rail yard"
who wakes you up holding your face
like a bruised pear
squeezing tears from it

his voice is the crushing glass
in your chest
it's as old and unresolved
as the snow's sleepless sobbing

the girl you blame is as pure
she told you herself
she's scared of stealing
and her tears are only real
you ignored yourself forever
so the ghost stands
and the ghost stares
naked as white marble
on the foot of your bed

live like this for a while
finish the pack
keep your knife close
let your cheek's tears freeze
in the snow now so you know
you were meant to feel
and search for the rest of yourself
it is a song buried dark in the raven's choir
and it all starts tonight