there you are
eclipsed by moonlight
& here i am
kneeling in your shadow
a black dog prayer
wedged between the
chapel silence of you
& the church bells of me
there is gravity to our
antiparallel orbit;
you, the blue planet
& me, the stranded astronaut
but you say we are at a
crossroads like it's a goodbye,
our unwinding paths
arcing through the night
i was a falling star,
a sinking ship, plummeting
into that familiar abyss
a tempest of tragedy
when i fell in love with you;
do you remember it?
how my heart lurched
in my chest at the sight of you?
there was rain
there were tears
there was dirt
there were bodies crammed
in coffin-sized pews
suits dripping with water
& you, your handkerchief,
that up till 1 in the morning grin
smelling of whiskey & wintergreen
as you pressed your shoulder
against mine so gently that i
thought you were a ghost
caught in the morning light
or an angel haloed by stained
glass, flying into church
like a starling come to roost
i cried then while you stared
at the nail bitten quick of my
fingers, at the entire mess of me
& chose to remain at my side
you tucked me in until the sheets
touched my chin & oh,
it broke my heart to pieces
you sitting in the corner
sleeping in that wicker chair
like we were strangers
like you didn't live here too
the shape of you known
by every piece of furniture
in the house
but you kept your distance
as if you were afraid
that i would burn up in
your embrace,
turned to cinders in the
enormity of your love
as if i did not throw myself
to the pyre years ago &
come sprouting from the
ash-smoked ground
you were a forest fire
a natural disaster of a lover
leaving me cracked open &
broken in a soul-starved way
knocking away the walls
around my heart
until the home that grief made
crumbled at your touch
i am bad at being vulnerable
too much animal left in me
to be soft or kind
but you never caged me
even when i was sick with
grief you held my hand
& brushed my hair &
kissed me till i laughed
i knew i loved you then
but i did not say it;
& here i am again
begging you to turn around
to see through the coward of me
to read my lips as they
whisper your name in prayer
the only word for love i know
i don't want this crossroad to
be our graveyard;
let us go out into the night & walk
a star-drunk orbit back home
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 9:04 PM UTC
there you are
eclipsed by moonlight
& here i am
kneeling in your shadow
a black dog prayer
wedged between the
chapel silence of you
& the church bells of me
there is gravity to our
antiparallel orbit;
you, the blue planet
& me, the stranded astronaut
but you say we are at a
crossroads like it's a goodbye,
our unwinding paths
arcing through the night
i was a falling star,
a sinking ship, plummeting
into that familiar abyss
a tempest of tragedy
when i fell in love with you;
do you remember it?
how my heart lurched
in my chest at the sight of you?
there was rain
there were tears
there was dirt
there were bodies crammed
in coffin-sized pews
suits dripping with water
& you, your handkerchief,
that up till 1 in the morning grin
smelling of whiskey & wintergreen
as you pressed your shoulder
against mine so gently that i
thought you were a ghost
caught in the morning light
or an angel haloed by stained
glass, flying into church
like a starling come to roost
i cried then while you stared
at the nail bitten quick of my
fingers, at the entire mess of me
& chose to remain at my side
you tucked me in until the sheets
touched my chin & oh,
it broke my heart to pieces
you sitting in the corner
sleeping in that wicker chair
like we were strangers
like you didn't live here too
the shape of you known
by every piece of furniture
in the house
but you kept your distance
as if you were afraid
that i would burn up in
your embrace,
turned to cinders in the
enormity of your love
as if i did not throw myself
to the pyre years ago &
come sprouting from the
ash-smoked ground
you were a forest fire
a natural disaster of a lover
leaving me cracked open &
broken in a soul-starved way
knocking away the walls
around my heart
until the home that grief made
crumbled at your touch
i am bad at being vulnerable
too much animal left in me
to be soft or kind
but you never caged me
even when i was sick with
grief you held my hand
& brushed my hair &
kissed me till i laughed
i knew i loved you then
but i did not say it;
& here i am again
begging you to turn around
to see through the coward of me
to read my lips as they
whisper your name in prayer
the only word for love i know
i don't want this crossroad to
be our graveyard;
let us go out into the night & walk
a star-drunk orbit back home
i don't write very often about love or heartbreak; so here's something that combines the two
