The Way You Did

Take it the way you did when you lost your way home; the first time you drove in the dark.

Take it the way you did when you lost your grandmother's wedding ring.

Take it the way you did when you lost your dearest friend.

Take it the way you did the night you lost your faith…

But Oh! don't take it like this!

This loss surpasses all

Defeats attempts of language

Shuts all windows of solace

The point zero of all her senses

With every breath, she prays it would stop

But still! Don't take it like this…

Under the ogre foot of this loss; she imagined she would die or worse

live.

Lonesome

She takes her child to the play ground

leans on the rusty broken gate

the lonesome mother

watches happy families – complete

she is different, she is cheated, she is

counting the years;  the incessant footsteps leading

to struggle in a long and winding road - drowning

she forces a smile and waves back at her little one.

She feels her youth seeping through her fingers

falling with every dead strand of hair.  

Glove

She's had so many in the past, but she loves this one.

The one she found by coincidence

The one she found when she was looking for something entirely different

The unassuming one that fits

The one she almost lost; the one that always finds its way back

Resilient strong leather; genuine caring skin

She loves how it retains the shape of her hand when she's had enough

Faithfully etching an impression of her every skin crease; waiting for her to come back

In the dark

He comes to see her late at night

In the dark, his finger intense

His eyes carefully touch her everywhere

He sniffs her like a hungry dog

tells her beautiful words;

how delicious she smells

She feels

 his breath         

                   consuming her       

                                after every cigarette

When he

When he tells her he is going away

Her tangled old fears unravel, her sneering old doubts growl

This is when he goes - the voice whispers - this is when it all grows cold

She never did learn how to grab hold of her tether or rein her seething promiscuous self

She wants the words but her weaknesses are strong

No articulation, no eloquence, no fluency

just her crooked forced smile when she tells him she'll drive him to the air-port. 

That

That love often wore its haunting masks

That the voices were deceiving

That her hungers grew weary and her passions destructive

That when she thought she finally climbed out of her sadness; she found she was 

always at the very bottom of its empty glass

That her mending of a broken jug, her replacing of a button, her sweeping under the fridge; is but her desperate compensation for all which she cannot mend, all which she 
cannot sew together, all which she cannot clean.

Dead Sea

After recently visiting the Dead Sea in Jordan.

Turning sea rocks - waiting to be surprised

but there are only 10.000 types of trees,

not a branch that hangs quite how we please.

No matter how fast we run, we can never out run ourselves -

our hideous over grown demons.

Between the life we led and one we'd rather lead; there are
,uncaring parents, unfaithful partners, disappointing friends
gazing longly and lovingly into the wrongs pair of eyes

letters never sent, trips never taken, emotions

that could have been spared

My spirit yearns to want less, to know more - to know well;

the knowing of money in a banker's hands,

the knowing of the Dead Sea's longing for life; with its

saturated cruelty - saturated salt

To want .. to want..

to always want.