a blackened matchstick at your feet
your silhouette against a background ablaze
your hands,
as red as the bridge behind you,
you lit this fire-
and you lit the first-
I am grateful
for all seven layers of skin
but if our bridges must burn
I will spare myself the blisters
and swim to you
do your best to break the dam
do your worst to wash me away
I am coming

The sun wept marigold tears
  and we were too busy
   in the toil of our own grief

     to notice

     to pause

     to ask her why

nor did we bother
  to pay attention
   to the splitting seam
    in the sky
or how all the colors
  bleed that day

but Death in all her gentleness

   paused

sat quietly with the sun
  gently wiped the tears
   from her cheek
    held her hand
and waited while the sun
  mourned what needed
    to be mourned

then Death pulled a thread
  from the fabric of her robe
   and stitched the tearing seam
    in the sky

and then with all
  the bleeding colors
    painted a long overdue sunset
     on the never ending horizon

you’ve become nothing
but fire and wax and regrets.
you’ve become a cautionary tale,
a warning of loving too much too fast
you’ve become a memory
in a long list of lovers, of tragedies

you’ve become nothing
but ash and feathers and bone,
you’ve become a story,
a tale of boys who fell for suns
you’ve become a glimpse,
a moment of clarity that ends all too soon

I am dawn.
A rising sun, its rays barely lighting the horizon.
Gentle swaths of yellow illuminate blurry figures,
their shadows intertwined but their hands empty.

I am the day.
Golden hair cascades down like a waterfall, reflecting beams of light
filtering through rainbow-painted trees.
She wanders alone towards emerald fields still clothed with morning dew,
her only company the flaxen creature gently howling through the silence beside her.

I am dusk.
The sweet scent of roses mingles with the crisp air
as the last whispers of light fade from the sky.
Four people are silhouetted against the dying sun,
grass tickling their feet as their laughter fills the air
and sugar-sweet strawberries fill their mouths.

I am the night.
Light spills out an open window
and a small figure gazes up at the glittering sky.
"I wish..." she breathes so softly that her words are lost in the wind, "I wish."
Then the curtains draw closed and all that's left
is a handprint on the fogged-up glass
and the promise of tomorrow.

I was born 05:40 in July – Zodiac sign: Cancer
A little girl that loved looking out of the window
Watching the moon at night
Nights were soft and friendly that time
And the Moon smiled and lit up my way

On my 20th birthday I was holding my present
A birth horoscope
Printed on beautiful dark blue paper it stated:
Your are Cancer / Ascendent Cancer – a child of the moon
Nights were wild and full of life that time
And the Moon winked at me and lit my up way

6 month ago I was holding a report
On sterile white paper full of medical phrases – again the word „Cancer“
Long way to go now and the road won't be easy
But I started marching
Nights are a bit darker now
Hope the moon will light up my way

(© Heike Borgard 2016)

Staring at the ceiling in the dark
A new world comes to life

Dancing shadows
Like familiar silhouettes
From memories once so dear
Doing dips and pirouettes
Entangling then seperate
Few seeming so desperate
Whilst others only bid adieu
For not all is too
Far gone, far down
All things shall arise

Ribbons like smoke
Or regrets chains that choke
A serpent, slithering in the mind
Plotting to seize control

A figure of shadow
Creeping by the doorway
Moving soundlessly across the ground
To stop and stare
At the one who dare
Look back
Into the eyes of a darkness.

- Jay M
August 24th, 2020