threadbare

Back before
you let the rope
around my heart go slack
there was always something
to pull me forward
no matter the distance
or effort

Now it lies limp and frayed
as my intentions
I loop its weight
around my arm
and pick at loose threads
I carry their shapeless form
with no destination
And wonder at the strength
they once had united
and their frailty
in the absence of tension

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oppresence

In your presence
I cannot write
I cannot read
I cannot dream
I cannot wonder
I your presence I count
hours and days
that won’t count
but will account
for the waste I leave behind
In your presence
I count the beats
that will never repeat
yet will ever be the same
I your presence I take all
and offer but remarks
of what falls
short of its mark
yet not far enough
to be ignored
In your presence
I long to lay on the ground
and let the rain
wash my remains away
leaving my soul
to seep into the ground

another season

Smiles like the weather
in late september
turn cold at a thought
one ought not remember
in a light crisp as this
where we begin to miss
the blinding heat of July
when hard as we tried
we could not imagine cold
or ever growing old
All we then wanted
we now have in droves
as we sit mulling over
shedding guilt
before October is done

Outside the trees
are thick with browning leaves
waiting for a blast
to unleash them
as wishes
aborted to the wind
and bring this lagging season
to an end

under cover

that lie that used to slip
off my shoulders each night
threatening to leave me
naked at your side
fits better since
I no longer stand so proud
and stay close to the ground
more common to your kind
it keeps us warm
when the sun goes down
and the wind sneaks up
on our weathered hearts
still I don’t dare declare peace
lest we ease off into sleep
and dream of what
we cannot keep
without these lies
weaved to lift
our heads towards the sky
and shroud our gaze
from the grave we’ve made
of this bed where we lay
at the end of each day
spent picking loose threads apart

why I’d rather not know

maybe we abided  miscommunication
because asking
would mean knowing
and knowing would mean
having no more need
for communication
and then a silence like
this would reign

on any day

I marvel at contrasts
lull over dirt
admire the patterns
left by rust
I clear the clutter
focus on points
feast on colour
connect the dots
I look behind
savour the best
then look ahead
to face the worst

And all the countless
in betweens
I try to fill
with endless reams
of lists of things
that I should do
All to stopper
thoughts of you

because

when I saw you
words bubbled
to the surface
reflecting universes
of all that never was
and would never be

a modest supposition

We
who cherish
the hope of finding
that rare hidden gem
often redefine
the common or vulgar
as special
to make our effort
to grab its attention
worthwhile 

Perhaps we
are the gems
that long to be found
worthy of attention
amongst all
the tinsel and noise

maybe then

perhaps when the last item of clothing
worn in your presence
is threadbare and forgotten 

when I’ve changed job
and the walls that contain me 

when my daily route
filled with the thought
of seeing you at one end
is definitively altered

when I’ve moved
the orientation of my bed
and the pillow that absorbed
those dreams
so the morning beams from a different angle 

when I’m emptied of words to describe all the spaces you left behind 

when I no longer recognize
my face or the place I stand in
or do any of those things
I did with a heart full of you 

perhaps then
I will have moved on

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