We write the words
We cannot speak
Across blank screens.
What would we say
If we weren’t afraid?
Instead, we paint pictures
From minds blurred,
Mumbling through masks.
(Found dated 4th January 2017, and don’t believe it was published.)
With stocking feet
From her lips bestows
She shuts the door
And quietly goes
I stare at the passing bus
Wondering how much
The wheels would hurt
As they roll over me
But it would be extreme
To watch my body bend
Just for the sake
Of getting out of work
When the only reason
I don’t want to go
Is there is so much life
I want to live
(I think I may need a new job folks.)
Maybe now its time
To learn to breathe for myself
Rather than for you
Your presence missing
Lost beneath the drooping boughs
My heart remains wrapped
I trust a man I’ve never met
To put a razor to my neck.
There with his blade to take great care
As trimming every little hair
He tries to make me someone new;
A lot like one who once you knew.
‘Fore I abandoned self respect
I’d daily trim and keep in check
But since that fall my will is gone,
The hair upon my face grows long.
Untidy and unkempt they say;
What reason do I have to change?
The years they pass and slip away,
I live in memories and pain,
Self loathing grows like mental rust,
I have to learn again to trust,
Yet cannot bring myself to do
The same, with anyone since you.
I sit here staring at a face
Which once in photographs I traced:
The ones in which our lips would meet
As there we stood upon the street.
Back then I was a different man
Now he is gone and so his plans.
This clinging to what was won’t aid
Nor should I dwell in doleful shade
For only in this moment now
Is found the why, the where, the how,
The reason that I let him hold
A blade which shall remove the old.
Did you ever dream
Here where light splits frozen sky
Chilled lips pressing mine