A black swan moves through silent streams,
With wings of night, it haunts the dreams.
It wears its sorrow, cloaked in dark,
A soul that drifts, lost in the arc.

But there, beside it, pure and bright,
A white swan dances in the light.
Its feathers shine, its heart is free,
A symbol of what good can be.

Two swans that glide, yet worlds apart,
One carries shadows, one a heart.
In every soul, both dark and pure,
The swans of fate forever endure.

I’m not okay with loving you from a distance, but maybe love was never meant to be held so close. Perhaps the purest form of love is knowing when to let go, before we unravel each other thread by thread. Maybe the space between us will heal the scars we left behind. Maybe the silence between our glances is gentler than the weight of words unspoken. The nights stretch on like the miles between us, do you feel it? The absence, the ache, the closeness of what almost was. I stand at the threshold of our past and future, one foot in the memories we shared, the other in a future we may never touch. Were we anything more than two souls reaching, running along the outline of something that no longer exists? There’s not enough distance to forget, yet too much to reach you. I watch the tide rush in, wondering if I fought against the current, would you come ashore with me, or would you drift further into the deep? Would we unravel completely, or could we weave ourselves into something new? But maybe love is knowing when to stop reaching. Maybe it’s recognizing that we gave all we could and stepping back before we lose ourselves entirely. I’m not okay with loving you from afar, but maybe distance is the only thing keeping us whole.

We are apart, the frayed red string is broken
One soul now scattered, across two galaxies
The ocean of my heart , with a tsunami can't reach yours
Ego refused to sail the boundary, leaving us with cold memories.

Tinted sky sets with warm sun,
I sit in peace, miss my shoulder with your head
Flowers of Magnolia are, scattered on the field
Your tresses in the air, the beauty you won.

Who will now embellish you?
My fingers , your hair , is now a wide divide.
My smile, your talk, is now faded apart.
My hug , your warm, is now gone from my life.

Is this what you've decided?

Moonlight shone through the windows
and onto the floor in long,
bright
blue
rectangles.
The shadows from the leaves in the trees swayed back and forth like they were
dancing with the cold
November
night
wind.
The moon was their spotlight, my front yard was their stage
and they danced
with
no
music.
The trees savoured every moment with the wind, for they were each other’s lives,
and could not dance
without
the
other.
The trees cried when the wind was not there, and the wind came to wipe its tears,
and then
they
danced
again.

You know I love you
You must know all the things I do,
Big things, small things,
Despite your worry, I will not go.
But sometimes you annoy me,
With lots of small things,
Is it your way to avoid me?
Or do you miss the pain it brings?
Toilet seats, left up all the time,
Open ******* boxes all over the pantry,
Crumbs on the floor and ants in a line,
Towels stuck in the microwave; I'm angry!
Why can't you do these simple things?
It's not a lot to ask.
Don't get me started on your room:
Clothes and junk are just too much,
And in the other one, A Temple of Doom,
Your record collection sits untouched.
Downstairs, there’s a pile of tools,
filling up the dining room,
It'd be great if you used these "jewels";
You're so attached they should be in the bedroom!
They're just lots of small things,
Why won't you clean them up?
To me they're irritating things,
And they just keep piling up.
All the small things
Sitting here for twenty years.
Are they the talismans
Against your fears?
You used to bring me flowers
To show me that you cared.
Now you shop online for hours;
I sometimes forget you’re there.
When you ignore the small things,
I’ll dig them out of a pile
And see what money they bring;
You won’t notice after a while.
Maybe in twenty years more
I’ll have all these things
Whittled down and cleared
And we could be each other’s things
Once more.

Sharon Talbot - 2010-2024