It Won’t

It won’t be the day you leave
not the flashbacks in my head

It wont be the years I grieve
nor the voices speaking back

It won’t be the nights of black
not the dreams I wish away

It won’t be my cold turned back
nor the mornings in no one’s arms

It won’t be when the coffee’s cold
not the untouched gourmet meals

It won’t be as the clock chimes one
nor the unused hung up clothes

It will be
when I go back

to the cliff
you saved me from
— this time alone

 

~ Emily C.

6.27.17

 

 

Tide of Stars

Prayers at the shoreline to distant gods,
mantras and chants for mystery maker.
Dark matter ripples gently move her hair.

Evening storm retreats, trailing shocks strike
as parting clouds evaporate like dried tears
she cried once, for life’s loves, lives lost,

while tidal waves yawn on black horizon,
swallowing all with a smacking crash,
closing in upon her beach this night

until in dark consuming light she sees
tides of stars at her bare feet, collecting
along moondust sand with each lick of waves.

In her graceful aging youth, never to be old,
she smiles — the stars gathered in her palms
chime as diamonds might in a gathered dress

that flows along winds of time — which pauses.
One dainty swirl and scattered again, they fly…
in the distance, a shooting star aims for her heart.

~ Emily C.

 

6.25.17

Good Morning Glory

Good morning glory…
blinding white sun,
vines entwined round flowers
choking life undone

by nyctinastic summer blooms 
…you rise despite our hands
that yank and tug and pull,
removing you, none can.

But something must die
for you to grow.
Something must suffocate
for you to show.

Spread your slithering tentacles,
grabbing at anything;
all disappears
beneath beauty’s smothering —

A smile for you
is a smile for death,
for kill or be killed…
summer’s Coliseum contest.

 

~ Emily C.

6.24.17

No Answer

darkness rumbles in distant realms.

inner ear hears mountains moans.

taking steps on trampoline floor,

shaking when the wind shifts core.

thrown to the abyss against my wish…

…these walls have been carved before

their messages clear and clearly old,

alone I fall amongst long lost,

my screams only heard by sediment;

it crumbles in my turbulent wake,

but all I feel is my own cold breath,

exhaling gales in earth-scoring notes,

writing my story read by none,

except the stars when entropy wins,

when all returns to nothingness.

why does life matter?

I ask whom exactly?

no answer comes back.

all is black.

~ Emily C.

6.22.17

Uncaught

I was the one you loved
but oh God, I couldn’t bear its truth —
to know you would
love me through
the worst

when only the best
is what I wanted to give you
when my weakest
was all I had

how could I fall
the way I had to
how it was coming, like it or not,
knowing you would
want to catch me

you see
I am uncatchable, 
unsavable

you, the warrior knight
never did I want to hurt you
through my hurt
through my certain demise
through not letting you love me

(better you don’t —

better you find a reason
to hate me)

as I will love you
from safe distance
far from where my pain

might taint the treasure

of your heart

~ Emily C.

6.21.17

Still

now my eyes can only see cosmos
when they are closed
visions of eternity design frescos
in spinning stars

behind cloak of sight
comfort in their disarray
I am in control of my night
the only place chaos is calm

to park my mind for a spell
lose myself, willingly
…would it be so bad
if I left this hell?

hell that tries to pass for life
all that is steady evades
mocking my drifting strife
grasping in vain, slipping away


nothing is as it seems
but when eyes
planted shut within a pretty place

are closed so very tight:

I could be still
while
cosmos swirls


~ Emily C.

6.20.17

So Very Far

There, the finish line so very far away
wearing this chain around my neck
dragging burdens clang in sway
like damning bells speaking death

no cheering team aside the chute
no hands of help extended me
my gait distorted in lines astray
my face contorted by life’s dismay

how long must this suffering endure
how far will these feet smear blood
the path is endless, onward rolls
its torturous shape — a möbius loop

to them my countenance all the same
the pain invisible to naked eye
for every smile cracks through dark
and belies its truth of dying light

~ Emily C.

6.18.17