putting faith in another human being
creates in me a fear so vast and enduring
it's hard to fit it in one imperfect lifetime
trust distorted by the history of things
done to and by us in the name of love
creates a doubting monologue in my head
that manifests in unattractive neediness
a seemingly bottomless hunger
for the reassurance of your touch
I fervently covet
your singular devotion
show me you'll do anything
to silence this non-believer
with love so constant
and unreserved
I feel it
from the outside
in

For my brother, Martin

I'm going to sling your memory
over my shoulder
back pack you round the world

slide you on to station platforms
alongside the passing panorama of footsteps
that echo on that slice of cold cement

tuck you into airplane lockers
overhead the sleeping flyers
in that metal coffin in the ice cream clouds

nestle you among bus luggage
beneath the picture windows
and the ribbon racing road

I will unpack you in every village
every town and every city
in every land and nation

on every continent and land mass
crossing the oceans and seas
catching every wave and tide

circling the earth on winds and breezes
following sunsets and solar eclipses
and every cycle of the moon

until I find a place of resting
until I find a place of peace
until I find a place of peace

© M.L.Emmett

It's funny, y'know?
How you can know someone
Know everything about them
Share memories, spend countless hours with them
And then one day
As if out of nowhere,
THe memories fade
And it gets harder to remeber their secrets, what they look like,
And you talk less and less
And you wonder if they even remeber your name
You wonder if they even remeber being friends..
Of course they don't
You're just a face,
A part of their past
Just
*A n o t h e r
F  a  d  i  n  g
M   e   m   o   r   y....

Sometimes
                                                    a
 ­                                                spark
                                         ignites         a
                                       flame,
                                       other times
                                                        it
­                                                    simply
      ­                                sputters  out
                   ­                leaving
                                behind   nothing
                              but                        ­a
                                wisp of smoke
                                  and a hint
                                    of
                     ­                sulphur,
                                       the only
                                        evidence
           ­                           we even
                                      tried.
               ­                            ...

This is not my poem
Sure I sat here and wrote it down,
but its not my poem.
Yes, yes I took the time to memorise it so I could see my words reflected in the expressions on your face as I read aloud...
but its not my poem.

This is your poem
You wrote this
You wrote this with your smile
the curve of your lips wrote this
the sparkle in your eyes punctuated every line and measured every pause, perfectly.
Your lips formed every word, sounded every syllable, created the melody that echos in my head as I write YOUR poem.

The rise and fall of your chest first catches my breath, then takes it away completely. Sensibilities and caution tumble down your back like rain in a warm summer shower that falls from a star filled sky, the heavens have opened. My heavens have opened. Caution is now a distant memory, like something once heard but long forgotten, something you knew you once knew but know you no longer have to remember so while there is at least an awareness of it, its passing will not be mourned.

And there, pooled in the small of your back, nestled just above the curve of your buttocks, lies hope.

The hope that the beauty I see in you, in us, in everything since we met isn't a mirage, isnt a projection of some one sided fantasy but that its real. That its as real for you as it for me and that I'm not alone. That I'm not alone in the way I feel and the way I think and the way........ the way.....the way I love. Its hope that knowing how I feel, how much I'm in love, in love with you, the hope that hearing me say out loud the very thing that I've had to fight telling you on a daily basis hasn't scared the **** out of you the way finally admitting it to you has me.
But this isn't my poem.
This is your poem.
You wrote it
and its my gift to you.

I'm buying knick-knacks
to bring to Heaven.
Odds and ends to
comfort me
when I cross over.
Little things to
remind me
of living
on this planet.

I'm packing mementos
to bring to Heaven.
Small things
that will remind me
of everyone
I knew on earth.
Articles of
collectibles
that I can hold
or look at
when
I miss them.

Feet are walking,
albeit slower,
to the door that
leads to release.
The bright light
I've heard about
will be shining
for me.

Maybe I'll be
like a toss of smoke?
Able to watch
the final performance.
Check out
who bought tickets
and
who
declined to attend.
Flicker around
the homes and places
where my loved ones
live their days.

Will I be able
to touch them?
This I do not know.
If so,
I'll stroke
cheeks with fondness,
informing them
of how I valued
them in my
physical form.

I wonder if
I will find
knick-knacks of me
in their
hearts?

I keep a lot of things
Inside a box under my bed
All the confessions left unspoken
All the things I never said

All the silenced "I love you"s
Every drowned out "please"
Every word I've ever swallowed
I keep them under lock and key

So every time that I seem quiet
When I refuse to make a sound
That's just me adding a new collection
To my box that will never be found

But maybe one day I'll find someone special, who really cares to see
Who will reach into my coat pocket
And find my secret key

Maybe then we'll sit together
And look at every one
I think I'll be able to talk much better
With every knot and noose undone

But I suppose that's just a dream of mine
And all these words drawn out with lead
Are just a new addition
to the box under my bed