The ghost hollows of morning slip away from me
– one knot at a time – the breathing weighs so heavy.
I stretch myself transparent,
while the sky trembles from sighs of angels – from the noise of answers
you failed to give.
And there I discover the dead sparks, the husks of our music –
all lonely notes of smoke and bitter endings, and the relief that comes from deserting the ashes.
The Words That Never Come
How many bones must I swallow,
how many ghosts must I drink,
before the taste of you recedes
with the tide’s heartbeat – cruel and brutal –
pounding cobwebs against the shores of our memories?
The moonlight washes your footprints away,
and I am left alone – standing in the wake of your storm –
waiting, waiting, waiting
for the words I need the most – the words that never come.
He smells of varnish and sweat and tobacco –
her dress is ink – his tie pistachio
and I press my lips
to the splatter of freckles
orbiting your shoulder blades like comets,
trailing my fingers down the braille
of your bare spine;
memories unfurl like pastel flowers
at every indent.
(They lull me to sleep,
and soon my breathing becomes an echo of yours)
* * *
2. The sickly green of having to say goodbye
Some metals stain your skin
and some people scar your heart-
stitch the words into my throat,
they're piling up and I can't breathe.
Static spans the length of my mind.
I'm used to saying goodbye,
kissing your cheek
and sending you on your way.
But not like this.
[adj] Beginning, in an early stage.
you are the first whisper of life
the heartbeat a cynosure of strength;
with eyes as clear as Elysium's emerald fields
and imbued with the mysteries of the before,
your very form is an ineffable gift
a scintilla of what is yet to come;
you radiate benevolence,
and so we welcome you to this universe
with cherry lipped kisses and tender embraces -
[adj] Vanishing quickly, lasting a very short time
the crowning light on your brow
bestowed upon you by the universe
a mocking and challenging gi