You walked like promise dressed in torn silk,

A hush in a room full of noise,

Light caught in broken glass; dangerous in the way stars burn themselves out,

They said you had gold in your throat,

Wisdom in your fists and fire tucked beneath your ribs

like a secret too wild to keep.

You touched every dream

but never held one long enough to make it real,

Laughed with the echo of gods,

But wept like a child behind locked doors,

You kissed every lesson

but spat out the cure,

Swallowed poison with poetry and made a masterpiece of self-destruction.

The world offered open arms and you danced right past them toward the cliff’s lullaby,

You wore a face too quiet for a soul that loud,

I stand here at the altar of what could’ve been and whisper to the cold wind;

You are the prettiest bouquet of dying flowers I have ever seen.