I got used to
opening books and reading the last page
reading lips in the dark
sharing a bed with nightmares
I got used to
your outline, emptied of care
squeezed dry these years
dessicated by slow fruiting rage
we lay as blue eggs will
in a basket of woven thorns
clucking over regrets, like weary card players at dawn
you gave me a cocktail of poison
I the dreary tread of error
it took a life time and a match
struck against willing rock
to burn the illusion
and gather ourselves whole
Even as spilt ways form streams
Cleaving together seemed
The natural passage of people with holes in their chest
Tasting the arrow as it exits
…
Where then? The other part of me
Located in your similarity
A death not proffered but needed
I, a bag put down, not retrieved
They mocked when she wept
Pointed at her words and said;
Her humiliation and dramatic way
Is overblown and immature
You nodded in agreement
Because she was no longer part of your wield
A flung thing to be lost and spoiled
Once you would have defended with your life
Told them; It is you / with your cruel minds / who should be ashamed
That was when we walked as one print
Beneath patterned trees still living, holding to
A belief some knots cannot come undone
it wasn’t true … our knot I saw dissolve
As you baptized change with solvent certainty
Moved toward it and away from me
Did I ever say … without you I
Thin-rooted and growing side-ways
Slowly fail?
I did?
Ah. Then.
I must have missed
Your response.
Invoked my protective instinct. But that’s near the surface now. Also broke my heart
Sometimes, we have to be shown who our naysayers are in the worst of ways for lessons to be learned.
Candice, you cut write the white off of college-ruled paper, especially here:
“I got used to
your outline, emptied of care
squeezed dry these years
dessicated by slow fruiting rage
we lay as blue eggs will
in a basket of woven thorns
clucking over regrets, like weary card players at dawn
you gave me a cocktail of poison
I the dreary tread of error
it took a life time and a match
struck against willing rock”
This is effortless, the whole of it. Truly.
I officially love this response!!
❤
that was supposed to read, “you could write the white off of college-ruled paper,”
*sighs*
I loved that phrase
Boom!
THERE IT IS!!!!!
Always. Yes, ma’am. 😊
Holes that take time to heal…This post spoke to me!!!
Nice one, mate!!!
Thank you dear Sally! 💓
You’re very welcome. Do stop by my page too sometime
I did and I appreciate YOU
Thank you 🙂
Deep touching words 💗
Love seeing you here 💓
Yes, im back to posting and reading finally ❤
I had to see what you were writing. You’re words are always so powerful
Yes, im back to posting and reading finally ❤
I had to see what you were writing. You’re words are always so powerful
As yours are my sister as yours are
relationship, decomposed so clear
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – Some endings take time.
Very touching, I think I have lots of holes that need to heal. Love the poem.
This is beautiful
Lovely to see you here my friend and thank you so much for saying so I appreciate that very much
You’re welcome 💕
So very well done
Reminds me of ‘Kintsugi’ , the Japanese art of repairing broken objects with gold. Once repaired, they are considered more beautiful for having been broken.
Psychic but you knew that 😉 Exactly what I had in mind. Excellent read.
Score!
Magnificent! <3 <3 <3
Thank you I felt I said what I wanted to say here and that is a good thing
Thank you for the kind words on my blog 🙂 I love your writing! So I’m quite honored 🙂
💓 we lift each other towards the light 💓
So charged and engaging. I’m lurking around your lines tonight to battle boredom.
We can do a parallel interpretive dance as I’m doing the same 😉
Well done, I’ve always enjoyed your work. And thanks for the unexpected visit yesterday.
I’m trying to visit my favorites and you were ON my list although for some reason not on my friends list just in my memory so I added you back I don’t know why you weren’t except WP does that sometimes. Good to see you my friend
My pleasure, I have been away from WP for some time so maybe that had something to do with it; I’m trying to make my way back though. Thanks for coming by and reading through so much of my work.
Your usual subtle ending – leaves something in the mind.
Thank you dear Dave
As Carl Sandburg put it: “I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.” Your poetry always makes me cry . . . and makes me laugh . . . You are a gift!
Thank you dearest Peter I can reflect those lovely words right back at you and mean them equally
I have no words.. just ❤️