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Nov 2014
Shaking hands
I turn to friends and weep
about the loss that did not even happen
yet

To me the everpresent threat of it
looms over me
and to get rid of it I really would
have to get rid of my own self

In my heart's shelf there stand
a thounsand dusty photographs of loss

Once tossed and smashed
I now feel numb when I remember
How those kids left

Bereft of all that usually helds up
a healthy rationality I stop
and stumble

Maybe -
a tiny flicker burning in between the dust -
maybe this time it could be different

Maybe this time
there will be clarity
and - rusting in the chambers of my heart -
the images will softly leave this rhyme

and drift apart
just like they should.

Just leave my heart.
...
argh.
Me
Written by
Me  Here and Now
(Here and Now)   
1.2k
     ---, ---, Christi Michaels MoonFlower and ---
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