The vase in the window squeezes
the translucent necks of the flowers
leaving dark green bruises of water
ringing around the rosies.

When you know you can go on
because you still see beauty
in grey pavement and orange
streetlights. No pocket full of poses.

The note was nice. Thank you for leaving
the first µ out of beautiful. I'll remember
when this is all ashes ashes.

Between a window and a curtain
between cotton and skin
between breaths
we all fall down.

This poem was written by a Cornell College student, not Matiss.