Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
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You’re missing and I’m scared
But you chose to leave and we can’t control it
You’re missing and I miss you
But you chose to leave and the missing never ends
I don’t resent you
But I feel this loss of you
Your time was done here
But I wish you’d stayed
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Shimmering flavours of hope dusting the furniture
Like so many broken promises resting in the hole
A fingertip of dusty hope
Drawn across the solid wood in a straight line
Coming to rest at an end in this place
All the hopes whose promises never made it
Whose flavours slowly faded
Drawn like so much dust
It flutters down around in a silent winter night
In any light
Hopes falling as they fade
Leaving dust in their wake
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When I imagine myself with you I imagine
Going on long drives to nowhere
Jumping the gap on the ferry
And then spending the night waiting for the ferry home, sleeping and talking in the car
I imagine this serenity, where with each other we are so in each other our own that we just
Enjoy each other and the life we create
I imagine you looking over to me
As the late talk slips into slowly falling asleep
I imagine soft smiles at each other
Whispered goodnights
When I imagine myself with you
I’m always alone and it always continues
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If I could word how I feel
If I could name the feelings that flow
You aren’t here
You’re gone
How I miss you
The feeling
Like rage like pain like sorrow like loneliness like
A thousand thousand feelings they drip
They puddle
They flow
There is no word for the way to feel knowing someone dear is gone
Less the attached feeling like
And I never even got to say hello
And I never got to say
Not goodbye
Don’t go
Don’t go
DON’T FUCKING GO
Please don’t go
What do you call it?
When you never existed
And they’ll never exist again.
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It’s stuck
I can’t get it working
The mouth
Of the river is waning
In the silence
I know what it means it means I’ve given up
I’ve given up
And every day until the day I die I’ll spill my heart
And as the ink dries on the parchment a new another silent cry for
Anything anything
Waiting in the wings for an answer besides the silence the river doesn’t flow
It trickles endlessly little pieces little pieces
Somewhere beyond where we are now is there an answer I’m waiting for?
And I have given up
The river flows no more
Could the rains bring it back to life to spill into the ocean the story of the land?
Can the sky meet it willingly?
Is this world a true world?
Or does the river dry,
Pulling the sky and the ocean into it
Requiring their presence
If the river is dried
Where do the words go?
Where do they go…
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Melodious meaningless words spoken softly to no one
On the page written and claimed as a genius
Yet to no avail
Yet to no avail
The end of the story evermore the end of the words spoken sweetly
Nothing left over when those words are now silent and empty
Each must have stepped up to sign the treaty
And I will die alone
And they will speak the words until they are meaningless as they were written
Have I not eyes?
Hundreds of years of questions
Never answered
By the writing on the page
Elucidating Questions 