Occult Blood

I feel your pain if no one else does.

I see the ghost trails of tears on your face,

born of the nightly séances for memories long gone.

I notice the parts of you that are missing,

lost in the wrecks of failed relationships.

I understand the outbursts --

post-traumatic stress...

I know it's not over just because the wound stopped weeping.

Not all misery is marked.

Doesn't really make sense, does it?

You could be dying and not one comprehends.

But they're all tortured, like you, victims of their own grief.

There's blood on the floor an inch thick; no one is aware.

I see hurting people.