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

 

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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.

 

 

Wrap Me

wrap my heart in embers

encase my chest in cloth wrap it stop it from breaking

or at least hold its shattered pieces together

wrap it in steel so I can’t feel the quaking

the chasms

roaring rivers running through canyons

filled with lions

cool it with breezes, funnel in light

hold me so hard that it stops hurting

hold me hard and plant flowers in my emptiness

I want to watch them bloom in the springtime

please

remind me that everything dies but that there is new life

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

You Start Dying Slowly

By Martha Medeiros:

You start dying slowly

if you do not travel,

if you do not read,

If you do not listen to the sounds of life,

If you do not appreciate yourself.

You start dying slowly

When you kill your self-esteem;

When you do not let others help you.

You start dying slowly

If you become a slave of your habits,

Walking everyday on the same paths…

If you do not change your routine,

If you do not wear different colours

Or you do not speak to those you don’t know.

You start dying slowly

If you avoid to feel passion

And their turbulent emotions;

Those which make your eyes glisten

And your heart beat fast.

You start dying slowly

If you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love,

If you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain,

If you do not go after a dream,

If you do not allow yourself,

At least once in your lifetime,

To run away from sensible advice…

Bookends

I want to devour those pages

those words, intoxicating fantasy

the pit in my stomach,

Ravage you, cover to cover

I want to feel your cobblestones against the soles of my feet and revel in the sunshine playing off of your shoulders

The window gaze reflecting sharply searing into my consciousness

Take me down a little dirt road to faraway England where the sun shines down on the fields of peat

Take me through forests

Replete with dew

The smell of cinder in the trees

Take me through twists and turns to that old bar

Brett Ashley smoking in the corner

lazy gaze of wine, drunk, and afternoon glistening in her eyes

Take me running through glittering cities

breathless

the grates hitting our heels endless causeways

and then lead me back to that forgotten orange

Sitting in the fruit bowl placed up high

Long gone summers, kisses, laughter

Take me through those corners and tell me why you always keep the light on in that empty room just in case

I want to feel those corners like they’re mine

Memorize the pages, run them across my tongue like aged honey

Filling my chest like love found,

Like love lost.

Take me back to the time we were sitting in that old Chevrolet and the dust was catching the sun just right across the windshield, lazy day in 1979

You put your sunglasses on and kissed me and everything felt like cigarette smoke and sunshine.

-mh