Love’s fat weight is resting in my torso
A lolloping dollop of a hefty heart
Much too much to carry .
All the fat of yesterday’s joy so entrenched in coronory tract,
That I require a stent.
A scratching off.
A bludgeoning of debris too hardened to come away in the night.
Yours is glass.
Rubbed away easy.
A crime without grime.
Can I change mine now for a lighter model ?
One that beats with ease ?
Pretty please ?
Plastic fantastic or maybe elastic ?
Either way not lead, not filled with dread
Can I have yours instead ?
Little by little like the wild colours of Fall….your love leaves me.
Ah but there is always that last storm
The one that takes too much at once
And I am left bare and skeletal
A dark frame against a pale grey light.
Soon though. Very soon
There will be a budding and a bloom
No room for curled up love , the one that rots in the grass where once our bodies lay entwined.
No soon there will be renewal
And you won’t recognise this frame
I will be full to brim. Lush with new love
While you will disappear under Spring’s new life.
Mulch for the life that you left.
I have boundaries made of muslin cloth
Thin, flimsy only useful for wiping drool
I let everyone in and under.
Not so much a boundary as a blanket
All are welcome.
The good, the bad the meaner the better
I’ll keep you warm… ish.
And you’ll lie … with me then to me.
But as the frost sets in you will look for warmer cloth
Blankets made of stronger stuff
One that says enough is enough.
Mine stretches until it snaps.
I wanted it all in a neat little box
Not scattered about like the remnants of a Christmas popper.
I wished to have dignity and be better this time
It’s all gone wrong you see?
There is no cellotape for this tear
No ribbon to make nice.
Nothing but ice.ice.
It’s cold behind your back.
You block out all the sun.
But never mind , soon I will run.
I grow tired of trying to tidy
What am I really fighting for anyway ?
A shrug ? Another lie?
Why do I even try ?
Your veins were thick with it when I met you
I felt no fire.
You are nothing but vampire
And I have been bled blind.
Lord grant me nothing as I did not believe
I only came to you when the rains came.
Lord fill me with nothing
Because that’s exactly what I did for you.
Am I so brazen to think that just because I ask you will listen ?
Give and I shall receive?
But I didn’t and don’t.
I wore this life out with not a thought for later
Not exactly a hater
But no great lover either.
The people I cared for , I did so with ease
Certainly not to please.
The good deeds I did were for my own pleasure
Memories I treasure
I did nothing too taxing or grand
Nothing that will change this land
This earth will take me back unchanged by my mark
Not brighter just stark.
So as I call out your name in writhing pain
And ask for release.
Don’t listen. Don’t give me peace.
I’m not a believer, I didn’t pray
It shouldn’t be different on my last day.
All I have is time to think
And I used to feel bad for that.
But blessed are the thinkers, the thoughtful.
We do it for those who don’t have time
To ponder the sublime
Those who toil in mortal coil.
Who plough the heavy soil.
Oh but I am not made of heaven yet
My coil is weak so my soul must be light
I fight in theories and rings surrounded by ropes of a million philosophies.
I see the patterns in a web you weave
Because I can leave. I can pause for thought.
So blessed are the workers ,the feeders the bleeders the strong
Those who think they can do no wrong
Those who move without thinking
Because stopping is sinking.
But the heavens are lit by weaker creatures like me
Whose bodies are not cut of diamonds but whose minds are made to shine
My pushups are of a different muscles
A strength built up for a different core
My legs might be heavy
But my mind doth soar.
Every night we learn to die,
to forget the mass of flesh and bone
and travel beyond the realms of our perceived lives.
Every closing of the eyes,we leave and live a million lives.
A jumble of different things
Some formed of unfinished thoughts
Others with nothing we have seen before.
Every night we learn the abandonment of a cage we call home,
Yet we fear the day when there is no return.
So I learn to think of death as I would a house move.
Not as close to those I once lived near but still in their sphere.
Not all alone
But in a new home.