Looking at the world
In picasso focus
Building on the scaffolding
Of previous creations
The evolution of mind
Fast forward and rewind
But always out of sync with the times
And they’re always there to remind
But they’re never quite right
These Picasso paintings
In the mind
The night was different shades of black with gold specs, and the moon was a silver goddess shining brightly onto the world when she left.
A fleeting love that died like the wilted roses of winter as snow blinkered all our colours in white.
The train came at 21:05, and that was that gone in a haze she was just a face staring back from a window with a tear writing sadness upon her cheek.
The snow of winter turned grey as it was muddied by the boots of people trudging their days away mindlessly while I noticed every little wish unfulfilled in the stars.
A plane shot through my vision, pointing as if it was going to the moon, a trail behind it that is poison in its own polluting way.
It occurred to me then that life itself was pollution, everything was spinning on this globe, and everything was interacting within it.
Yet we pulled ourselves outside of it with our distractions and words, but I know now it was only ever an illusion.
That we are the earth, as are the birds and the other beasts that share this world.
And the train shook on the tracks, our goodbyes said only in our staring eyes as the train rushed past, and I knew I’d never see her again.
yet she was still the earth as was I, even after the train tracks drew a divide between us
I didn’t yet know if that was comforting or all the more painful.
These goodbyes always feel like the end of the world, still, it turns, but somehow it doesn’t always help to remember that fact.
Our emotions never could stick to the notion of calendars and diary planners sometimes, an anniversary feels too quick in the heart and loss too long in the dark.
Neither of us waved, our eyes blinking through the sadness that words couldn’t express.
My eyes took a picture of her face in the window while it never left; it fades as the days go by, her absence getting more noticeable with every feature lost in the memory.
It seems to me absence is a lot like a cockroach
nothing can kill these beasts
The birds singing…
In the funeral home
That breath …
That lingering goodnight kiss
Each silence has it’s own sound
The roads had been paved by violence
The residue of our ancestor’s turmoil inside us
The shadows that walk beside us
A cacophony of laughter fades
Along with the photographs on the page
Turning through time
long flown by
A ghost of a glimmer in her eyes.
Posts every Tuesday
Share, comment, like and follow.
It’s the 10th day of NaPoWriMo and creatively I’m a little constipated. I’ve managed to squeeze this out, though I’m unsure of it.
Indifferent to your lungs
On the cusp
But never becoming
I’ve got static
from the times
i’ve had on rewind
lost the picture
what did she look like
the ex with buttons for eyes
or was it marbles?
I’ve rewound so much
I’ve lost touch
she had a zipper lip
or was that the trousers she unzipped?
She was a bit of a dick
or was that……
As they bring you in
Tears will flow eternal
And vague regrets
Will invade our skin
And you will not be there
To tame the itch
Candles will be lit
Tempting us to embrace
of your absence
(C) 2016 March
*notice: Any ads and/or supposed ‘related’ ‘similar’ posts are not endorsed by Silverbackgorillapoetry