White cup waiting. Grey steam gathering. Whirling clouds sting your eyes. Tears falling. Whistle screaming. Piercing the silence of an empty home.
early this morning,
our street basks in silence,
the crow barks hello
I wish I’d made a different choice.
I wish I was your friend.
Eyes meet, heart breaks.
Regret hurts still.
Sun glistens. Ripples wriggle. Silt dances in the stream. Clear water no more. Mud moves, water flows. Yet still we swim.
Dew sparkles, glimmering in the morning chill. Tears holding on. Lost as the sun rises.
In dappled sunshine
The cold stone stares,
Like rows of dominoes waiting,
Rows of lives lost, taken.
In shadows they dance,
Among the trees, standing tall.
A watch tower for the dead.
For the lost.
We were always on the edge. Never quite falling. That freedom of flying just out of reach. The time we didn’t but almost did, and again, and again. Time spent wasting, time with you. They said we would. They said we did. But we were almost something. Just an almost.
Beating in, out. Stomach rising. To that thud, that drum. Vibrating. Moving. Breaking. Beaming. You.
Away from here. From the daily grey. Give me the blue of the ocean, golden sands, bright white spray. Give me air to breathe.