Art

She was the sort of person
who would kill herself for art
to prove a point
to show them all that she had meant it
when she said that life felt like
an empty coat pocket
reaching, digging,
but never finding anything
because it didn't exist
in the first place.

Because she didn't care
or cared a lot.
because of his face
the way he never had to shave
because of those late nights
taking hits out of a bottle
in the garage
because of the axe
the scent filling up everything
and because of that last photograph
that she kept In that coat pocket,
His coat,
which was now completely emptied
of Him.