I am aeons old
Memories fall over me that are sourced beyond this lifetime.
I have seen the shadow and shade of a million sunrises and of a billion dawns.
I walked with mammoths and swam in the first trickle of what you now pour down your throat.
When I close my eyes I have leagues and legions to keep my tired mind awake.
I am older than you can ever begin to imagine.
But only because I remember.
I remember it all.
The clang. The pressure. The bang.
I was here but so were you.
You changed. I changed.
Form and format.
Sulphuric air to liquid lair then beautiful solid shapes.
Soon I will be plasma but I won’t forget your eyes.
The anchor to my every life.
In each tick of a meaningless second
In an infinity of moments
I am yours.
All shapes. All matters. All ways.
I mourn the flesh of her
The weighty warmth of smooth limbs on my back
The delicate scent of hair in my mouth.
I miss the teeth of her.
The laugh she kept for me
The languid repose of her on a Sunday morning.
I miss her mind of course
But it is the flesh of her that leaves its searing emptiness in my soul.
I hug a pillow but it gives beneath my touch
And it is cold.
I wonder is she cold too ?
I close my eyes but all I see is bone. Bones.
The smooth skin going,going. Gone.
It’s all wrong. Without her.
Why do my lungs not give up ?
I think my heart has.
Half finished knitting, lying like a sad multicolored cat on the table.
A half crudely cut curtain grimacing at me from the shadows
Projects I intend to finish but never do.
I do things by halves. Perfect halves.
That’s heart and soul and pieces of flesh.
And that’s why I’m finished. Complete.
You came into this halfheartedly.
And now I am at a loose end.
You wanted me to straddle.
A limb in each corner.
One burning with the uninhibited heat
The other, pale in life’s banal never-ending joke.
You enjoyed the tearing, the pulling apart
Not of my body.
Ah but of my dreams.
Do you know what torn hopes look like ?
They are jagged. Shorn. Shook from their mother’s milken tit.
Left to mew in the icy shadow of your shrug.
But I am made of moss and I flourish where roses die.
I don’t cry.
Not for you, you wicked thing.
Made worse by no awareness of your hacking.
A shears sheds no tears when flowers fall.
But I am no flower.
I am the tower.
So shears to you my dear.
Make sure you look me in the eye.
No not down there. Up. Up in the sky.
This time I take full blame
For playing your game.
I can’t pretend I didn’t see the outcome
Oh and out it came.
The beautiful, searing truth.
The kind that wakes you in the night with disbelief.
I did that before.
How could you be so … so…
So fucking awful. So fucking you.
So fucking what ?
There are no surprises.
So I take full blame.
Add it to the list
Of things that keep happening
With a narcissist.
You are a half beat between the thuds
A low hum behind the melody
A trickle of shadow on scorching ground
I will move towards you in the darkness
And my time will stagger to your glassy pace
A clink. A clunk. A jangle.
I crawl into cracks for you. To be with you.
I turn life on its head to be in your bed.
Thud. Ud.Thud. Ud. Thud.Ud.
That’s my heart in my ears
It’s all I hear.
You slash your way out of my skin
And it takes time to heal.
But I’m a self-harmer
My blade is a charmer.
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 ?