it is the silence
i have been writing about
the separation of twenty years
during a life with another
you cannot remember
the spindle of sun caught
in an apologetic curtain
the yawn of a plant growing
the sympathies of the cement for the sky
who say all the same back
the naked nights that live and die
that stretch towards you
that look for you
barely there anymore
the ears of a caterpillar
that destroy themselves
to turn into a butterfly
who cannot hear the language of the past
memories splattering themselves
in a sink
the alphabet of dreams
god giving suffering
god giving salvation
tomorrow finally arriving
the love for all those that have grown
out of it
the yelling of a yellow painting
the moment after the last page
of the first perfect novel
the accurate picture of someone else’s
thoughts
when the top of their heads
are cut open for us to
ponder upon
a dog drooling on a morning light
a coffee hollowing through a body
a heartbreak
the child that lifts his father from the floor
the first rainfall that dries before the ground
the last words of a suicide
a song you could sing when you were eight
and things were different
until the sound of change of then to then
to now
reading
breathing
looking
doing to do
and to forget
about all the noise
around
Beautiful language.
Posted by Sara | June 10, 2017, 5:34 am