Mortician

I hear the low moan
Of your silence
Stretching across the phone
and turning into something
of such longing
That only our hearts can explain.
In this car there is tension
As our words slip down our throats
and we swallow and choke
On what we wanted to remain.
Lingering in the air is
The essence of circumstance
and I am the mortician
Preparing the dead for show.
They say she died of canniablism
Some say it was just good old rape
All I know is when she came in here
She only had half her brain.
And she was dizzy and scalped
And asked me what time it was
And i was busy and couldn't help
Much like I always was.
So we let the music fill in the blanks
As we got lost on endless roads
That were in a town stuck
Somewhere between now and then.
The sky was empty and fatigue
And silence was filling up my head.
My heart was a forest
And I struggled to see past the trees
I thought about him, I thought about you
And just what this life is intended to mean.