Arid

torn?
they're no longer red-
the rims of eyes
you wait patiently by

remember?
where
homeless journeys
Ended
along the course
of wasted veins
scarlet-split tile.

did it ever
cut deep
enough, sweetheart?

nevermind, you
can't drip back
into pain again

some April, soon
you will cease
with the khamsin

anonymous dust
falling
off someone's lashes
someone
with tears,
still

so, nevermind.