nearly two years

there are silent storms,

vast and engulfing, but

please, pretend you don’t

see them. thunder rumbles,

silent as sin and lightning

cracks just as invisibly as

you wish it could, how can

you shut your eyes to the

veritable collapse of these

castles; walls crumble and

the grounds shake but you

stand still, still, remarkably

still, how can I fall when you

are yet to even notice the

rotation of this earth, how can

I move the mountains for you?

How can I be so desperately

concerned while you are so

desperately indifferent, have you

forgotten that this is the end,

have you forgotten that we will

never again be this way, this is

an extinction, the end of the

planet and an era, how can you

fathom the depths of this ocean

when I can’t even sail it on a boat.

This could be the end of forever,

let me know if you

want to change that, I need

you to want to change that, because

I have never tired of you. I have

spent years by your side and have

never learnt to put up a guard, I

would never wish sadness upon

you my dear but please let me

know, let me know that this is

hard for you too, so I can sleep

tonight and every night that we

spend apart, do not leave me to

fight this alone.

I will never

begrudge you, these last six months

where we both knew we were

slow dancing in a burning room,

waiting for the walls to collapse,

there is no moment of this love that

I would regret, I mean how could

I resent a love that was like breathing,

that was like two years of the moment

where you get into bed after a long,

long day, and there is no atom that

could ever want to be

anywhere else.

Perhaps the most disturbing part

of it all, is how suddenly memory

foam turns to concrete, and how

desperately you want those silk

sheets to stop feeling like you’re

lying in tin foil, were you deluding

yourself? No, not at all,

it is remarkable what the human

mind can do when it wants

something to work so badly,

when the overwhelming fear of

failure that you never knew you

had kicks in and all of a sudden

two years have passed.

It is almost shocking, looking

at pictures of you with your head

that some other girl shaved, to think

that I really knew I would marry you

one day, to have laid the stones on

the path to forever, to have almost

set my dreams aside to make space

for yours, to have given up Paris,

New York, New Orleans, for the

little town that existed only in your

mind and your childhood, too small

for a girl who stands 5’10” in stature

and infinite in possibilities.

Advertisements

Seeing

Please try to not forget that

I see you, each and every day. 

In every armchair I see all of

the stories you told, in every

teacup is the scalding brew 

you drank, in every outdoor 

endeavor is your disdain for the 

cold, but love of walking dogs,

of your breath in the air on frosty

mornings and the lights of the garden. 
Every television plays

a loop of Westerns and reruns 

of Irish standup comedy, on

every plate sits biscuits, every 

microwave is always set to two

minutes, for how could anything 

ever be warm enough until it

burnt through two towels and some

denim?
In every pair of hands 

I can’t help but see yours, 

turning newspaper pages, 

finishing crossword puzzles,

and perhaps what frightens 

me the most are the unfinished 

ones, that will now wait 

forever to be finished, always 

a piece missing, 
how desperately appropriate.

Day 15

I lie in the darkness with a thunder rolling through my bare chest.

No ripples are present on my ribcage except the breastbone that usually protrudes,

the typhoon in my heart leaves no scars, no evidence for me to prove that this pain ever existed.

I feel a physical agony beyond the description of language, a tightness in the lungs

reminiscent of childhood injuries, as if every scrape and graze was made by your

razor tongue and every bruise was from a blow of your fist. I breathe in ragged gasps

losing control entirely of coherent thought as my mind is invaded with thoughts of you,

memories all too potent but not quite long enough ago to be comforting, as if pouring

mountains of salt in wounds that are still seeping blood. You cut the stitches that I

gave myself with no anaesthetic and as the partially healed tissues rip and tear again

under your watchful eye, it occurs to me that this will never change. 

I will always be infatuated by a person that existed for but a brief moment in time,

the blinding light of you against my velvety black sky imprinted forever on the back of

my eyelids. I could show you the universe, lie with you in the silence as you contemplate

my fate, paint the cosmos across your back and use the contours of your spine to

explain the concept of time and infinity, count the freckles on you and fix the pieces 

that  fall out of place when you push your hair back but I could never make you feel

the way I feel about you. If only my heart gave in so easily