I am old
my mind forgotten
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I am silent
my words unspoken
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I am still
my muscles wasting
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

I exist in twilight
leaves have fallen
naked and cold
winter approaching
my dance is over
a tune stopped playing
my silence filled
with children laughing

my last act
a final curtain
bury me
in a soul shaped coffin

My mother’s name is lost
to everyone beyond her children.

“She was beautiful.
What was her name?”,
others would say to me  
when shown her image
hanging silently on the wall.

In the chanting of it—their wind
echoes my death back in a cloud
of disinterested kindness
and muttered miseries.
  
They know only their faces,  
the renamed mountains and rivers,
the new language of their exile.

Not that—
she was wind born—
knew her better name.

found myself feigning to be real,
    believe I'm pretending to conceal,
how little could one know ones life?
    even less do I know mine own strife

asked a fact only I could know,
    to not say, I would now have to show,
weak records from which to assess,
    so I craft an educated guess

focused on a fading charade,
    remaining brainpower working hard,
keeping the trust of my allies,
    to do so - I must stand my lies

hexed with an unbreakable curse,
    staying here - would only make it worse,
not long before all is forgotten,
    mind, memory and past turned rotten

T'would be grim to share a life with me,
    Meets no reminisce with memory,
When on our favorite day of all,
    I'm left with nothing to recall.

Our guests arrive, the altar manned,
    I see you, your heart and your hand,
Held so close then kissed so tight,
    Receding visions of that night.

The pacts, promises that we'd taken,
    I would retain them - I'd be mistaken,
And when we both pronounce "I do",
    I won't remember - it's up to you.

While measuring the blueness of the sky,
the figs went stale.
You open your hands to grasp the last fresh ones—
like a prayer,
or a leaf in its senescence.

The heart constricts itself into a void,
like the death of a love
that arrives too late at your door.

Your forgetfulness has misplaced all your memories
somewhere in the house,
and, somewhere you end up—
without trying, but never in exile.

Your arms that hold me leave no comfort.
But the hands slotted around my neck,
They fit perfectly like a missing puzzle piece.
Once the puzzle is finished, it is meant to be forgotten.
And so I will be forgotten,
To this curse of a once promising life.

A silhouette drifts through the mist,
shaped by memory but not quite there—
a figure lost between the spaces
where time forgets its own name.


Wings flutter, soft as dust,
stirring the silence in slow breaths,
like the whispered promise
of something never meant to be.


The air is thick with the weight of nothing—
a presence that slips through your fingers
before you can hold it,
before you can understand.


In the distance, a song plays,
but its notes are hollow,
echoing through the vacant spaces
of a forgotten world.


It is as though the fairy exists,
but only in the spaces where eyes do not see,
where dreams and memories fold together
like forgotten pages,
and everything is both real
and utterly lost.


You reach for the hollow light,
but it fades before you touch it,
leaving only the scent of something once pure,
a trace of something you can never claim,
floating away
into the quiet dark.

The dirt still knows you and me as it squirms under our toes, and the old bells up the steeple of the forgotten chapels resting behind the hills sing tarnished songs of friends we loved and lost.

Ancient rivers, our hide away, under our confidante, the shifting sky, our secrets lingering there still with faithful boulders that cushioned us.  

We were arms that cradled each other while we set to walk on a wire stretching from our innocence to our dreams against the gusting wind and blowing doubt.

At times we made it and saw storms retreat and run for cover, and other times we smile bruised and wounded grateful for the lessons we have learned.

Down by the river, where the world is hushed, and shadows draw sharp breaths and bite down ******* us with their gaze, you'll find me nailed to time awaiting your return before the dusk descends, I pray.

Make haste, find your way back to the place we’ve seen eternity, and where tomorrow talks to us. Our refuge where promises hang their eyes on us and spread their arms wide. There, we are orphans with no yesterdays. There where our hearts cut through tears. With our hands out we could
dream without end.

If you don’t find us there, friends lost in me, if yours knees still could, feel the wind, it’s still dappled with memories.