drugs and soul

Shaped as frozen flowers the

Light fell on her face

I watch the dust shift

Under my gaze

Each shade shadowed a different plane

Of her quiet self in repose

And I felt that I must shatter

So sharp and brittle was it

That I choose instead to write this

In an attempt to explain

How cold and clear the morning was

And how golden soft the light

How stunning each inch of her skin

In the dawn of our lives.

Today I buried her in the yielding ground

The light remained unchanged

But so different is the world now

That I can no longer see the same

Already memory shifts into

Little sepia dots

And I can no longer tell

If she meant as much as I believed

But how I hope she did.

The world moves faster now

And I cannot see the lines

Because they blur into one

Long endless day and time

Means little to me today

But later perhaps I’ll find my soul

And you can ask me again.

To sit and listen to the wind

Is something of an art

Because you never know

What it might say

And if it is to whisper

So quietly that you doubt

Its very existence

You risk your sanity

But then again, it might

Wail in such sorrow that

You long to cradle her

Like a lost child in pain

But I listen to you talk with

Your words that lead me astray

So I’m almost glad of the wind

And her canny ways.

Reams of paper have been

Spent on describing

A love that fills the heart and

Spills into the air

Wrapping one in its flavour

But I would like to tell you

About a love so quiet

As to almost not be there

A love that made me

Wonder about its

Honesty and

search for proof

But now I would like to think

That I’ve found such a love

Though you’d probably disagree

Because it does not flaunt itself

Or keep my face aglow

And I often ask myself

If love could have any other use

But then again, why must

Love have any use?


About this entry