Six Words

I let go

to hold on.

 

 

~ Em C.

12.12.18

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What is a night without a kiss

what is a night without a kiss
the touch of skin withdrawn
an empty half untended
an unwrinkled pillow sham

dreams provide the company
to live amongst the realms
where anything is possible
where anyone offers arms

what is this life without a love
a station for thine heart
walking with a frozen hand
unanchored in roaming earth

what is a night without a kiss
a coldness in lonely home
as time grows old in raindrops
and wrinkles unchecked grow

~ Em C. 12.11.18

Retrospective

retrospective gazing
at a life’s night that lost
itself in parchment phases,
my head

turned your memory
into wormhole scrapbooks
mocking long-lost destiny,
lessons learned one-by-one
in glue stick plastering,
mapping glossy mistakes
in page-numbered time,

the cold sorcery of pictures
posted in behind-the-back
finger-crossing finery,
dressing up camera ready
fragile smiles
with never-to-be dreams,
soon cracked to shattered bits
by the hammer
of reality

~ Emily C.
12.8.18

I Was Color

I warned you I was color.
play unbridled.

that I was bright light and moonlit dreams.

I warned you
that my energy
was a star
that maps could not chart.

winding-road runner,
seeker of everything far.

cool milk down the throat
butter melting on the tongue
salted chocolate laughs
and heat-seeker heart

I stopped flying
so I could meet you on the ground.
a stunned robin lost in your brush,
I amputated my wings on your dead love.

I am the spark

you need,
yet deny
suffocate
stifle
until snuffed.

I warned you I would live.

I didn’t know
it would kill me.

~ Em C.
12.5.18

December Arrives (Asleep in its Coach)

Awaiting by lone rural crossroads
near fields where I planted my seeds
not but a handful of months ago
now death marks these plots with weeds

December arrives asleep in its coach
ushered by dark steeds a-clatter
their manes matted with felled fall
jowls dripping strawberry summer

Not a wink nor a nod does it offer
no notice of where it has been
a nudge will not loosen its slumber
a clap will not awaken it free

Its usual somber somnolence
ices my veins with a chill
despite its expected arrival
never prepared am I for it still

Offers of hearth, soup, and blanket
my wary guest eschews them all
it wants nothing of creature comforts
but wants everything alive
as last year’s toll

~ Emily C.
12.1.18