Suzanne S

Suzanne S Sep 2017

We are lying together in a white room
Six arms, six legs, three hearts -all broken
And a magpie sits on the window ledge and screams
To the darkening sky,
We lie there together and listen as the world crumbles,
the sobbing not quite muffled by the walls
And know that this is the sound of a family shattering,
And your tears flow sticky and hot across your face
But this is sanctuary;
The only mountains our knees jutting up beneath the duvet
And we can wear the silence like armour, because what is anyone supposed to say,
In this bed you do not have to face the wall
Or think of what lies in wait outside the door
Or the sorrow of the magpie that calls it’s agony for you:
There is only us, and for a while that is enough.

To Cillian, a light extinguished.

#death #grief #bereavement #friendship #love

Suzanne S Sep 2017

Beat

Put your life in my hands
Every cracked blister and every white knuckle grasping at the straws of your hair
Is my best ever good enough
To bring you back from the brink?
Who can tell me where the right stop is, I am a train speeding off the tracks so
When is giving up an option?
I can't decide for the both of us - but your heart beats sluggish , a trail of slime in my cupped hands,
This is my choice, not yours,
You are blue lipped bulging eyes and I am awake finally but I wish we were reversed,
The world spinning inward, you and I drifting across the table,
Wine stained lips and empty plates,
And I can sleep again maybe,
Dream that I am someone else without dead weight on their shoulders,
I can't carry anything else with
Your life in my hands
And I am weaker now than I've ever been, Atlas long since withered away,
But put your life in my hands anyway;
No one will cradle it the way I do.

#love #ghosts #choices #death #life

Suzanne S Sep 2017

Rebellion swiftly comes

The day is fragile
A strand of hair stretched taut between scissor blades
There is rebellion in the air

They sing of it in the streets
And in the bars
Chant rebel marches at their parties
With a fire, a passion
voices raised as one
These people will lead the rebellion

They must

It is plastered across the TV
The bough is about to break
Always on the brink
And the singing grows louder with the telling

But the rebels never come
Their songs peter out like a waif
Leaving only rags and dreams behind
And drifts away with the changing winds

#rebellion #life #people #news

Suzanne S Sep 2017

This is going to hurt

Eventually this is going to **** you:
I will drop through the cracks in your limestone heart
Filling the spaces that you never knew existed
Until finally, without warning,
The stalagmites rupture your lungs and every breath is agony,
Calcified rock growing drip by devastating drip -
I wish you would have fallen away instead of in love;
There is no manual that could have warned you
That you have to move,
Do something
Anything at all before I bleed all the happiness from your mouth or see
If I could kiss you like an animal
All claws and snarling rage,
Screaming and burning,
A supernova in your arms,
But I am already in your heart and I know I will hurt you without any of that
So I lie with you, and listen to the stalagmites growing deep within, and wonder if you knew that I
was going to hurt.

#love #loss #relationships #heartbreak

Sep 2017

Oscar Wilde

On The Sale By Auction Of Keats’ Love Letters

These are the letters which Endymion wrote
To one he loved in secret, and apart.
And now the brawlers of the auction mart
Bargain and bid for each poor blotted note,
Ay! for each separate pulse of passion quote
The merchant’s price. I think they love not art
Who break the crystal of a poet’s heart
That small and sickly eyes may glare and gloat.

Is it not said that many years ago,
In a far Eastern town, some soldiers ran
With torches through the midnight, and began
To wrangle for mean raiment, and to throw
Dice for the garments of a wretched man,
Not knowing the God’s wonder, or His woe?

Sep 2017

Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Sep 2017

Robert Frost

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.