A change in the wind, leaves limp from the trees, not ready to let go. I’m not ready to let go. A change. Sun bright, air cold. Leaves gather at the road side, conkers crushed, defeated. This day. I think of you. Not ready for the change.
A stone heart crumbles. The crack you made erodes. Gaping now. I lay broken. Pierced by the wind.
the ghost of a tear stains your face
a smile washed with streaks of sorrow
thinking of a yesterday, when she was here still.
Dew sparkles, glimmering in the morning chill. Tears holding on. Lost as the sun rises.
Night walking. Head hazy. The streets warped like an Escher picture. Yet my routefinder kicks in. My feet walk a path they’ve walked too many times before.
Third lamppost on the left, take the snicket Dark and narrow I snag on brambles falling free, skin torn, stinging. Head for the light, the other side. Stumble on loose paving stones down the steps to arrive on your street.
Quiet. Calm. Unchanged.
I sit on the pavement. Hug my knees tight. Here again.
red skies bleed through
broken clouds, dark on the
Our home. Our haven. In the darkness I reach for you. Into the unfamiliar cold. Your absence staggering. Breath stealing. A knock out still.
scratch and scrape
a goodbye inscribed
smears of regret the
sharp words erased
yet indents pierce
cold lead burns
I try to cut you. But you are caramel. Oozing, flowing, across, beyond. Layers broken, cracked, remade. Seeping slowly. Moving onwards. Sweetness sticks. I splutter and choke. While you simly reform.
Does your neck still burn from the rope I gave you. Do you think of me when you struggle to swallow. Your Adams Apple bobbing against what’s no longer there. Squeezing past the memory. The token I gave you to show I cared. Is it tucked in a draw, at the back with the socks. Beneath lining paper, pulled up at the corner. Do you reach to touch it. A repeated action you never let go. Grasping for nothing. Grasping at skin. Does your neck still burn. I wonder.