the minor fall the major lift

& there he lay with 
words hanging half blurted
out of his, twisted mouth,
there he broke his bones and
left his eyes open to 
outstare the sky
but he is blind.

there, his kneecap is
jutting out, peeking out to a 
world it never saw, except maybe when
he was 3 and fell off the couch
and the horns are intimidating but
he does not budge.

there his intelligence - however little -
spills across the pavement now soaked in a
murky crimson bath;
he must've been in a rush.
there, beneath his chest
his heart crushed still
and i wonder if it is
smaller than he made it seem on
countless occasions.

there he lay, in a position
once deemed normal, of which his neck
tilted slightly when he
pretended to be honest, except the tilt now
is an uncomfortable
120degrees?
& his situation for once is
not an excuse

and this is the end for him
an ugly one but i smile
nonetheless

a bus stop, he said,
and it's over between us,
too literal were his words, perhaps,
i laugh in accidental mockery at his
disjointed sight,
and am labelled cruel by the 
passerbys
but i don't care for there he lay
and this is the end of

my heartache.