Keep Your Shoes On

 I hope someday

You grow yourself a better man.

Your voice hit me harder than hands ever can.

You'll never feel

how the earth under bare feet, is kind.

An open voice on a rolling hill, nowhere I step is out of line.

Carry your bones,

I'll cary mine. They're inside

my body, light. Keep your wings, they cannot swim with the tide.

Angels in the ocean,

are as meant to be as you and I,

You know I loved you, but you'd never swim with pride.

Keep your shoes on,

gardener. Your anemones and mine

are different. Hillside flowers won't bloom in the sand.

I don't need to grow

a garden beneath the sea. I take it

as it comes, as it sways beneath the waves and eats away at the rocks.

Yes my heart is full

of your memory and our sobbing. Yet

it's my space to mourn, I'll let the waves call loud, to wash away the dread.

The sealight sings me a lullaby, my spirit clinging to her tune.

Her voice speaks love, and her touch is mild.

I've been sleeping in her arms ever since I was a child.

Keep your bare feet covered, gardener.

 I will stroll away in mine.

Hollow Bones

 I went through all our pictures,

after two months where the glimpse of your face was traumatic.

They went by so fast,

the felt hundred years I scrolled through in two minutes, dramatic.

If you ask me "do you love me?",

my answer is a clear "I don't know". 

Not because I am cruel,

but because I'm so used to throwing my feelings away,

I don't know what they're supposed to mean or why it hurts,

if they linger will I find out? But it stings.

A hundred years of you,

in less than three months. In your house. 

In this small room where the outside world doesn't exist,

A hundred years of tears.

In all my memory only you

have made my head spin like that. Not even the moon,

for who I stayed awake until sunrise, just to talk.

If I see your face

and hear your voice, hold your hand,

Will you take my heart,

or will it set me free. I can only imagine, lest I see.

You're not Apollo and you're not Selene,

you're an angel, and I'm the one with hollow bones.

I can't dare to call you my angel anymore.

But that name is only for you.

You're an angel,

and I'm the one with hollow bones.

Anemone

 I don't know

If I want to keep you in my heart for you

or for myself

I don't know

Wether it's better for us to disappear

and move on to different lives

I don't know

How will I feel when I see 

your face again?

Do you want

what's best for me? Or will you use me 

to heal yourself instead

Do I miss

the touch of your heart and you voice,

or the vague memory of it?

Should I speak,

or wait for you to reply to my silence?

I meant it.

I won't grow your anemones.

I've enough of your screams in my lungs.

And there's limited space between my bones.

You're no longer the one I'm dancing with, in my mind.