More than anything tonight I want to give you roses. But not another’s words or laments. Not another’s passion. My own. To pluck a seed from my chest and bury it into the black fecund earth and wait for love to take root. I would lay with my belly flush against this soil and whisper…
Come on in, 2022
I wish you cause for great laughter. Genuine connection. Deep conversations. Authenticity in all your encounters. I wish you joy – pure, unadulterated. And peace – quiet within and calm without. May you chance upon fleeting moments of excruciating beauty. Sunsets upon sunsets. Cool breezes on the warmest days, sunshine on the coldest. Ice cream…
December is for letting go
I still carry her last words. “Look after yourself.” In my broken brain, it sounded like, “I’m not going to.”
So lovely you make my teeth hurt
Today I saw photographs of you I’d forgotten about. And the breath I took in was taken back out; returned. My stomach sank and touched my toes. My mouth went from rainforest to desert. You make everything ordinary almost too beautiful to bear. When I remember you, you are not a photograph. I’m not thinking…
Your name is an unbroken heart in my mouth
Fingers to beads Palm against palm Forehead to floor Pray Find yourself On your knees
A Journal of Undoing – Four
For so long I have been in the possession of something that aches to be broken wide open and set free from longing. I will take anything – an affair, a distraction, a broken arm, an appendectomy. Heartache; anything that provides release from the embers of loving someone who needs nothing; least of all you….
A god of one’s own
I wanted a god of my own We would be, my god and I, impeccable in our fallibility I wanted a god who rode bicycles and cooked breakfast Burnt her fingers and held them to my lips A god who came home late waking me with her perfume Reaching for me in the fumbling dark…
And of her hair…
Her hair tumbles open I am unravelling This is the soundtrack to her hair falling across her cheek
This wanting sits deep in my marrow
this wanting sits deep in my marrow a missing like hunger my belly smacks with the lack of you as the bitter heart of winter misses the soft crumpling edge of heat some days I want you so desperately I taste blood on my tongue .
part-broken, part-whole 