Like some broken
record cup or
pipe you can
always count on
me to skip
leak or bust
just like my
heart once did
and when song
sight or smell
quietly comes along
those mists from
across the shore
make their way
near to me
here making me
miss you more
Category: Love
Stuff
Sometimes I stuff
it down smothering
and desperate that
the embers cool
turning to ash
but I’ve found
that the warmth
of my body
keeps them alive
and the briefest
of long sighs
breathes just enough
hope into them
that back to
life they blow
engulfing me in
the flames of
their lost love
After
The way
to start
is to
end be
it sentence
paragraph chapter
or book
one must
come before
to make
room for
the after
Never
If but for
a moment would
I could I
I think not
for like sand
running through fingers
and back to
the beach or
snow that falls
for so briefly
turns to water
things don’t stay
that were never
Alive
And then this
why oh why
do its fingers
find the strings
and though delicately
still somehow pluck
and I’m played
a little bit
out of tune
but still the
same old song
and my body
feels the haunting
vibrations of longing
deep and dark
and somewhere inside
it warming me
knowing I’m alive
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 