Palm Prints On Pale Walls

It's true that the brassiest people are missed the most when they're gone
I remember how she always linked her brows when she looked at one
Partly because she couldn't see well
And partly because she didn't like it when kids mumbled
Or stumbled at all
She was one of these people with that yell too loud

And laugh even louder

Her words rushed out like a spring down the mountain
And her wild giggle, it resembled a fountain
Of curt goodness; with a glint that could jostle the glee of the sun
And he, that lean boy with a cigarette pursed
Between his thin lips, a walking display of bravado
They say he spent his childhood constantly nursed
A scarce child, bound to a faint shadow
Used to hide in hers, as she looked for him
With angst in her chest, herself beside
A piece of her own, so terribly missed
In the few seconds when he's out of her sight
"I didn't do right by her", he says,
Terribly shaking down to his toes
"At least she didn't suffer", I'd like to say
He cries, he wails as he bangs his head
Against a wall, unbreakable and abiding, taking on his grief
And unspeakable rue
"In the banquet of life not everyone gets to fill their plate of happiness"
I'd like to whisper into his ears
But words don't rush to one's aid, when most needed

Hey, brother with fingers so long and slender
Your shadow, it's fading away

It's you that seems to crack as you hit that mute wall
Your nimble crumbs, fragments of your soul
They crumble and fall
They pile on the floor, mountains of guilt and yearning
"I'm sorry for your loss", is all I could muster
And I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry.
Though it sounds so light against the heaviness that you feel
With all my prowess and zeal on paper
I'm still learning how to weigh my words
Against the pain and the wounds I venture to heal
I'm sorry that I can't gather all your pieces

There is one resting six feet under
And I still wonder, whether the last thing she said to me

Was the one I remember

Her words burning as they hit my cheeks in that cold night
"I'm still upset that you didn't show up."
Their last lines always echo through pale walls
Their last words grow heavier, no matter how light
All the letters dripping with almond oil
The ones always soiled with my lack of emotion
They never call in amid this commotion
Brother, I only have my own shoulder for you to cry on
But even that I couldn't give you.