Forgive me, because I stood on your grave and cried.
You weren’t there. You died.
And where are you off to, coz?
What paths will choose you to be their walker?
The pavements in our hearts are covered in your footsteps.
There’s still no sign of you.
We can still hear your laughter, if we sit tight and listen –
And we miss you, coz.

But I understand, you’re off somewhere, wandering far from our grief. You’re on the other side of the world, living still, living always. You do, because we carry your memories with us. But we’ll let you wander away – just promise me you’ll come back.

I stood at your grave and wept,
That promise none of us kept,
Although the blowing wind tried to tear the tears away.
Summer gave way to winter that day,
And the cold bit us in late July
– but the flowers paid no mind –
They piled on you, so I could only see the smallest slab of marble at my feet.

But I wept coz, there was nothing else to do as we held on to each other in familiar disbelief. I am not that strong, I don’t have faith in the heavens. But you were part of the sunshine that lit our downcast faces. I haven’t ventured far enough to look for you in the night and spot your constellation.

I still know you’re out there though – riding winds and playing sweet light strings on cloud guitars – playing music for our hearts. I hear you all the time now.

Forgive me when I stood on your grave and cried,
Because you were there. You died.

And where are you off to now, coz?

It looks to the overcast sun
Missing from the scene,
But this audience never wavers.
A flower for one
Peering over the green,
For the sky’s favour.
Stone centre and clay crowned
Held by the touch of metal
And yet growing with seed.
It needs no water, no ground
Forever open petals
Looking, yearning, a need
For the only one that gives
The only sun, the only one,
That knew how to grieve.

What’s help for if we’re not allowed to ask for it?
The disquiet head turns and eye shifts
Of people who have never felt
Have never endured
The anxiety of short breaths and wide eye whites
Wanting to sob and stuttering on silence
– shunning non-believers.
Did they know muscles choke?
They try to sink the lungs into giving them no oxygen, no relief,
When every new breath is a fresh
Batch of sewer water clogging throats.
What to do with these torments,
Better hidden still than cuts
On wrists (those cries for help),
The ones that show only in the rifts
Of a discarded soul, a stepped self,
An undervalued confidence.
Help? I cried my cry for help,
And was rewarded with one very
Awkward
Silence.

I was born –
The horizon leaked me, a slivering line
Choking the azure, circling the Sun
Bleeding light

From his corner,
Colours poured forth: meat pink and red wine
From melted spectres. A solar-shunned
Final fight

I rejoiced
In the silence of it all – the glorious quiet
Of black void, of absence, of the dark
Dark night

Though angels voiced
To souls through holes, singing disquiet
Using stars as windows to mark
Constant sight,

I ignored the heavens.
With a slowly blinking eye
I, Night, moved above the sublunary
Displaying a Borealis here or there
Singing my silence in frosty airs
Living on shadows, breathing earth
I ignored the heavens.

My death arrived
With supple sparks of changing tones
In the fabric of my widowed veil
Sun woke up, made dust to bones
And sliced my sky with a fire sail

I disappeared, let him reign
Over and over and over again.

I have become numb
Cold in comparison to the lighter days
Those days where the sun shone and the winds blew
And I only saw the beauty of the universe.
Chiseled too much, there are rifts in my soul
Too deep to be filled with sorry words
Too sharp to be wrapped by black silk,
Winding and knotted at my wrist.
But for all of these iced sorrows
There are springs of salt waters
Rooted in my ducts, gushing, flowing
Remembering all too soon, and by themselves
Past tears, past cries and sobs.
Did I challenge the fates
To see how much I could take without breaking?
I am far too bent to come back now.
I am not the person I once was
Too much has been lost, loss.
But I am broken now
I am cold now
When I see the sun shining and the winds blowing
I only see him

Choosy, contemplating all options,
or even disdainfully passing
by without so much as a look,

Is how they see her, laughing
awkwardly, when they suggest
spells and love potions.

All is in jest.
But why is she alone?

Always quiet, unfathomable gaze.
Hides worlds in her sighs
when she shields neath a book.

If they knew of the thirst
the fire
bursts

Love is a stranger to her
Daftly escaping everyone's tries
of introduction, under
pressure, nimble lies
when they fail.

Is that why
she is alone?