Yesterday's.

Where's the logic? It remains in yesterday, and I can't go back.

Bleed the throat with singing
To compensate for bottled up
Intensities
Blink the eyes
To dry up the pain of regret
Because nothing else takes away
The bitter memory of a kiss
That tastes of the façade
And feels like death
(You look like death, they said)
The white lies grow
And you do a line, compensating;
For what can be told, other than
A sweet whispering foretold tale?
Formality is required when
Looking one straight in the face
And the dilating of pupils
Happens when substances abuse the soul
(I forget...do you have one?)
The rolled up brevity of life
Can constitute for the pounding
In my head
Though how, no one knows
And the response to one so far gone
Is to walk away
The cracks in the sidewalk can always
Grow further
And the kiss
Can always rot again