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Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
Sing me your street light lullabies.
The discorded harmonies
Of light that speaks unease.
Wipe the concrete ash from your hands
Fill your pockets full of posies
Of cricket song and tree creaking in lament
Intone the notes that pass my lips
And taste them with yours.
There is an intimacy in this distance
A space filled with questions
Tangled over each other
Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
What’s the difference between
Drowning and drinking, adrift?

floating unmoored
body taught drum leather
through the current’s veins and
slipping beneath the surface’s mouth
The brush of its lips over arms
body taught drum leather
And sinking until sand meets skin.

Swallow a drop, scream a wave
Salt-blind eyes, sealess, starless,
The compass spins in circles

Can you tell me what I’m supposed to see
I can’t make it out
from the periphery
I never could judge the distance
Between you
And me
Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
I just want to see you grow
Stronger than  were before
I know it’s hard to trust a hope
But your heart was always stubborn

Hold on my darling
Don’t you let go
For don’t you remember
There are flowers beneath the snow

Well the path is may be long
To find again your soul
But I know it’s still there breathing
Your inner child knows

The walls you built were safer
But every wall it must come down
There is pain with all things beautiful
Your mind will come around

Hold on my darling
Don’t you let go
For don’t you remember
There are flowers beneath the snow

I see you in these fields of green
Your smile broad and true
The light it has relit your eyes
A stronger, prouder, you

Hold on my darling
Don’t you let go
For don’t you remember
There are flowers beneath the snow
Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
You are growing.
You sound  
more like the man
I think you always wanted to be.
You emerge from this crucible
brave, unfurled, determined
and I am truly  
happy for you.
  Sep 2021 Elaenor Aisling
I hope you are good friends with your emotions
That they are cherished and loved
Because once you make a habit of hiding them away
They stop coming around
Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
The smell of oolong still speaks your name. In the tea and spice shop I drift among leaves and peppercorns, petals and sugar,  I want to fade into the muted tones of flavorful hulls, curl into the scent of cinnamon and cardamom. Pulling down the iron goddess of mercy, I realize the veneer of curled baroque leaves rest on a sandbag. Shadowed abundance, a pretty lie, hollow, futile. Too much like us. The Cheshire glimmers of what we could have been. What I always wanted you to be, and what you sometimes were. A small edge, tiny supply to fill my cup, flavor fading too quickly. Replacing the jar, I realize there must have been a last day I named you mine.  The last time I called you boyfriend, partner—by our last talk, it was already finished, the last note in a fading song, off tune. I cannot recall the shape of my lips, the weight of your name, the tenor of my voice, the bend of my tongue, much less the listener. I still hear you, through the broken measures of a desperate song. You say you still love me, but perhaps I never told you, dear, I prefer coffee to tea.
Elaenor Aisling Aug 2021
But in the end
You were everything I needed
To find myself
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