I don't have a filing cabinet,
I've emptied all the drawers;
Lugged it through my clearing house,
Then gleefully through the  door.
The **** thing's out for pick up.

Each drawer was filled with files:
Insurance forms for cars and bikes,
Gone this long while;
Health receipts for healthy lives,
Warranties and refund lies,
Transcripts from a former life,
Lesson plans and records,
Some pics of you and me.
All shredded, bagged and tightly tied,
And ready for the street.
I'm finding some relief.
If only I could do the same
With memories of you.

My heart is but a Hut
Of love amid a desolate Moor
Of loneliness. One whose thatches
Of love, the finest of all that doth glow.

My heart is but a Hut
Of memories amid a desolate Moor
Of nostaligia. One whose thatches
Of love now lost her heavenly glow.

My heart is but a Hut
Of wild longing amid a desolate Moor
Of doldrums. One whose thatches
Of love marred with coldness of snow.

For there came a strange day
When winds of hate in robes of sorrow
Assailed her, buffeted her thatches away
Thus now but a roofless heart evermore.

My heart is but a Hut
Of despair amid a desolate Moor
Of memorabilia. A heart now but a Hut
Plumed with golden moments evermore.

You were a ray of sunshine
that stayed with me a while
that brightened up the day
that caused my heart to smile.

But dark days follow sun
and soon the rain did fall
gone the cheerfulness
the aftermath of all.

Like flowers quickly fading
the bloom of love was done
it hid behind the rainbow
of the dying, fading sun.

For us there was no funeral
no cremation of a soul
once were together
now apart,  not whole.

I will keep the sunshine
you once did bring my way
with no regrets or qualms
of what we're like today.

Beyond the passion of colour
the wind is crawling over trees
clawing at loose clothing
and things
not tethered or secure.
Beyond empathic words uttered
it sings hollow
and then a full
roar
settling its breath
to a sigh as it dies
beyond the texture it brings.
With nothing to mark
its existance except thee.

I miss the late night drives,
With you by my side-
I miss the late night skies,
With glowing stars like glowing eyes-
I miss the late night highs,
With the bonfire for light.

Oh and how I am now-
With none of the above.
Oh and how I am now-
With Nothing I love.

I just miss the you and the smile,
The rush of love gone wild-
I just miss the hands in the cold,
The warmth of something to hold-
I just miss us naive;
not wise and old.

I don’t have the time though,
To think of these now.
I don’t have the time though,
To wonder about how.

It’ll just be me—
Upset again forever.
It’ll just be me—
Learning to love another.
It’ll just be me—
In the end loving myself.

But then again
          I’m still left
                    With Nothing
                                I love

Stress, Pain - Mind insane
Guardian Angel spreads her wings
Soul feels Ocean Blue

©Heike Borgard 06/2018

My heart condemned to a cell  
became so shrunken by disuse
All my lovely things
shoved to a corner
near a radiator
for its rhythm, right, and heat  
Crushed by all the useless rules
reigned down from The Above
proclaiming—

"Certainty!"
of “what should be.”

My heart was never made for such a small space

But now—
atrophied and bowed by fear
prison garb seems comfortable
I don't think too much of hope or love in here
Too wary and too tired
to defend the right or wrong of it—or me
The sentence: so much more than I could bear:

“Life of Loneliness
no parole"

It’s good I didn’t hear the words
I would’ve died of grief

But all those years—

I served!
__

I wipe my eyes on the reprieve

Spent some time—
on my release
in cold gusts by the shore
where there’s room-- so finally
to breathe

Lifted my eyes into
the risk of clouds
the withered sun

If wind and sorrow
share the tears
that have returned


I figure...
so can we...

...share love
in a large room

knocking down guilt’s darkest walls

where souls make jails to keep from getting free
...Let them find each other there