Lentils

“No reason to lie when you can shock them with the truth. It’s more interesting anyway,” you said.

Lentils, cooked or not, are still lentils. They just smell different. I squeezed them tightly in palm of my hand.

“Anthony, why’d you give me cooked lentils? That’s so weird. Why are you so weird?” He always loved lentils. The red kind, not the green.

“Anthony. Darling. Let’s walk up this hill and catch the last sunset together. It’ll be worth it. I’ll buy you a home by the sea, just like you wanted.”

You asked me why.

“Because that’s what people do when they love each other, Anthony. That’s what we do.”

For the unforgettable – Ecuadorian flute bearing – MJ.

-mh-

Metamorphosis

“I didn’t do much for the past few days, but you know what I did do, this morning I saved a caterpillar and put it back in the woods where it belongs. And that put the biggest smile on my face.”

“You know, the thing about caterpillars and transformation is – before you turn into the butterfly, you have to be goo. Literal goo. You have to go into the chrysalis for a while.

And I’m just going to tell myself today, right now you have to be okay with being goo.”

#langhley

Any Excuse

I’ll take any excuse to love you

So explain to me that the sky isn’t blue

That this pain I’m feeling isn’t real

Tell me that people don’t really have two hands Tell me we’ll live forever

even though I know someday we all have to go

I’ll take any excuse to love you

Any excuse to believe that this might somehow work Tell me that when you paused

when I asked if you thought we’d be together always

That you really meant yes

Decades

Sometimes there is silence and space

reaching across the multitudes of

decades, decades, decades

spent dancing by the kitchen door

spent in that hallway, shone

spent wandering by the bookshelf,

home.

won’t you slide across this empty room

faint hum of music and sparkle in your eyes

won’t you tangle, soft around these limbs

won’t you wrap my heart in sunrise

 

Refrain

They say those empty verses left on the register

will come back for you,

but what do they know

about music

the bridge never follows

as you traipse under its arched passageway

they don’t sing about the sparrows once they’ve

flown away for winter.

they don’t tell you when you throw a bottle out to sea

it doesn’t come back – the waves recede gently,

and with the tide’s return

dappled grey bubbles

lap at your toes,

echoes fading  crimson sunlight.

 

 

Home

stop my heart from beating

where has it all gone

stop

you don’t know how you don’t

read me a story, count all the minutes

between when the doors closed

the sheets, the covers

i told you when these day late hours

rusted over

the only things left would be

that empty blanket and

where she sighed, happily

i told you that i’d always remember

our favorite songs

and gazing up at the ceiling

when you laughed and

thumbed through that magazine mindlessly

cause in those in between hazy daylight hours

was where my heart was