Holding on the hope you will return
For a moment think that you have
Brief impulse is all that I've earned
Resist coming completely back

I'm lying beneath skies full of stars
Frozen ground padding my head
Weakly wondering where you are
Pushing up buried expressions unsaid

The deep roots are tough to rip loose
They've been planted profoundly for so long
Forlorn because I failed to use
Fearing they'd come out wrong

Anguish has now awakened
Manifestation of my flaws
Regretting the path taken
Past a parasite that gnaws

The thought of freedom makes me laugh
Existing but actually dead
Like the way I cope with being half
Acting like I'm whole instead

Isolation is an alien feeling
Heard stories but had no clue
Hardly remember what it means to start healing
Never had a cut as deep as you

Somewhere in all the mixing
of these herbs and spices
I was caught in a scent of remembering
the way my mother crushes
crushed black pepper
because it is never fine enough
And the way she closes her eyes
sprinkling in salt, cayenne, cumin...
never measured, never the same
Just hands with so much to remember
hands with so much weight
holding the past and present
holding our hair and the house,
holding her pain and my pain
holding a ladle and my hand
smiling and laughing
I chase her down for a hug
as she runs from one *** to another
we giggle and giggle,
and the flame feels cold
unparalleled to her warmth

There isn’t much to this week
but on this day, intertwined in a breeze
wondering if the clouds will shower
or burst into a freeze
I read pages and pages of past
taking breaks to peel pears
and slice the strawberries
drizzling honey onto plates
and savouring the sweetness of spring fruit
I think of all the mountains I've yet to climb
and how much I look forward to the rain
but parts of me still hold onto autumn
and the feeling of watching the trees
shift into a new ending
It’s just like how these days
I keep returning to the shelves on these walls
picking up all the books
from every conversation in the past
and trying to, once again, read between the lines
to decipher when those questions
became answers

the flowers that bloom
at the site of this burial
are not a marker
nor memory of
what lies beneath;
they are the reminder
that there will always
be this burst of
colour and beauty
to be cherished
in spite of
what those roots
have grown through

a headboard crashing
echoing against the walls
like whips of lightn'in'.

i can't remember
what i want to say to you
please you tell me now

Curved branches and winding vines
Impose it's corridor
On the surrounding woodland,
And readies my heart
To see you again

As I walk,
The surrounding trees
Drop the last of their leaves
But your presence
Turn fall into an arboretum

The silence of the woods
Grow dense,
And the chilling wind
Cuts through me
As we near one another,

But I am warmed
As you stand
Waiting for me,
My sweet lover