#claddagh
I think the hardest part
was turning my heart from my chest.
Peeling the soft tissue from my sleeve,
pulse still twitching
veins still bleeding-
And ****
it hurts, Love.
Like wrapping a bandage too tight;
Like hearing a banshee's keening-
Inevitable endings
turned to soft reassurance.
Tell me-
will you mourn me
like so many have before?
Will you grieve the future we dreamed of
that will now never come to fruition?
I am not as selfish as the Kings that came before me;
and for that, I am sorry.
I don't have the heart
to hide your animal skins
from your arms.
Nor will I curse you
with misery
upon misery.
I have loved you far too much for that.
I have known you far too well for that.
Instead:
Hold your hands to my heart, love.
Cradle me
Crown me
And let me bear wittness to your loveliness
just once last time.
I've known I had to leave,
200 years have passed
as you hold tight to me-
the years have been so kind to you, dear.
But you don't know that;
to you it's only been a heartbeat.
(Time works differenly here, afterall)
I'll don my coat,
soft seal skin sticking to my scars
as I turn back homeward;
as the waves open their maw to welcome me.
I will tell your stories for years to come.
I will dream of your arms,
of the future we designed to save us from dark days.
I pray you will forgive me, mi vida.
I pray we'll meet again,
on a distant day when we have assured steady footing.
I pray that you remember
my heart is ever yours.
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 8:30 PM UTC
When all becomes heavy, and you’ve made yourself so small that your pleas are like the voice of a mouse, remember: The sword must go through the heart, and you are to relish in this sweet ache, forever and ever, and that is a kind of survival. And when all is still heavy, and your pain is not the kind that will set you free, do not shun the hand of your loved one. For there is a kind of heart that can only be held with two hands. Both of them cannot be your own.
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 9:57 PM UTC
Love, loyalty, friendship
all promised in a ring.
Shimmering on your hand,
pointed inwards for me.
On one knee in Galway,
I have so much to say.
I’ll just ask, “Will you be
mine on our wedding day?”.x
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
I wear my loneliness on the ring finger of my right hand, upside down.
A beautiful reminder of
Empty coffeehouse booths and
Cold bedsheets, imprinted only by one.
Someone asked me what his name was,
Noticed my confused glare,
And nodded quietly towards my hand.
I had slipped it on without looking that morning,
Right side up,
Wearing a fake lover upon my finger.
I stammered as I turned it around again,
Reassuring them of my loveless heart.
Any stranger, near or far,
Can see my loneliness.
The brilliant emerald embedded only proves
To be a distraction.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC