Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
They said your footprints
were still on the windowsill
when the authorities showed up

I wonder how long my hand prints will remain

as I lean out and see the last thing you ever saw
speed towards you
like that camera trick they use where the background speeds forward
but the person stands still

I feel you in my nose here
all that remains of you is
a scent of yellowed dime-store novel pages
and I can't help but agree
when scientists say that
our sense of smell is the one most closely tied
to our memories.

They always said you had an old soul

but I know better

You lived with the clarity of a newborn's eyes.
In the corridors of the body,
In the halls of the jagged ribcage,
I milk the stars in her eyes
In a field of tissue and organs.
They fall from my memory
Into the hummingbird heartbeat
Which makes my body
Nostalgic warm.

I hated the way childhood tasted
Like sticky kisses from unfamiliar lips,
But I remember you softly,
As though thinking too hard about it
Would shatter the memory.

You’ve nested in my brain
And kept my small hands warm
With your big heart.
You are channeled into me
The way west winds
Whisper their messages in and out
Of metropolitan suicide suites,
Telling us not to jump,
To put the knife down,
Not to pull the trigger and
To get off the chair-
You are a lifesaver
In ways we can’t count on fingers
And toes.

My mood swings like a pendulum
In a long-broken clock
And I gently fray at the edges.
I can feel your hand on my face
And I am comfortable like a cloud.
I give my entire heart to you
Neck and all
And in return, you give me yours
Pale, pretty wrists and all.

Somehow, through the dresses,
The curled hair and the pink nails,
I felt you reaching into me
From some private distance
With eyes, hands and body.

— The End —