he sinks into himself
against mirrored glass
against soon-to-turn reflective leaves
as if they alone
could shade the depth of his thoughts
conceal the loneliness
that quietly seeps from his hands
i wonder as i consider him
if my curiosity seems
or if my own flighty thoughts
as they intertwine
with casual notes
of cigarette smoke
The whole poem is just gradually slipping away and the only strong word is condescension, off-set by the absence of capitilisation throughout. There's something futile and sad here. It reminds me of my Dad, who is drinking and smoking himself into the grave. I go over and we talk and play some guitar but every morning he's getting sick into the sink, it's his chest. Anyway, we just don't talk about it.
I don't want to limit the meaning of your poem, but there is definitely something being lost and slipping through fingers as you say. I also thought of the Neverending story, with the rock-eater who is all washed up at the end of the movie, having watched all his friends slip through his fingers. That was probably just chance though. Your style is usually brighter, so I make these other leaps. At heart though this is starker than usual and ends on such a full stop even though there is none. The lines are drawn in that last sentence.
Overall it's a very good poem. I think it probably captures whatever you were trying to capture, especially with the passing language employed to give it that drained out feeling.
i guess i've been that guy before. abandon the day. i've done that. never turns out right, just makes it harder to join the next. i'm trying the embrace thing. for the record you've never come across as condescending. that's a great quality. but anywho. ever try vaping? good replacement for the smokes. don't know if you smoke but for some reason i think you do.