In each of the cobblestones that pave
the street next to our house, I still hear
the echo of your footfalls, and the wisteria
still hopelessly frames our windows, despite
the photographs being empty of life.
The sound of the sea's whispers still swaddle
this little town, but they are morose and menacing now;
unfeeling and unsympathetic to my lonely plight.
I wonder if you watch me from that middle place,
between life and nowhere, where the day is black -
slow, black - and life's lost denizens are ash-white in the dark light.
Dreams come swiftly to the lost and I, too, am in purgatory,
plagued by visions of soft white skin and raven hair,
those full lips which I can never kiss again
and the softness of your breasts beneath my chest.
Heaven holds hoards of the eternally, but tragically, youthful.
Heaven holds hoards of wilting wisteria, empty photo frames
and desperate men like me.
this was an extremely well deserved win my friend, so sentimental it even made the cynical cow that I've become somewhat teary-eyed, and how i do love wisteria, something so whimsical and melancholic about it, it seems to spring a fragrance from heaven itself, an apt bloom for times lost, and yet, a whisper of something new and fresh..
Almost speechless with this piece. It tugs at the heart and speaks of memories lost, missed and it made me think of where the departed go, how much they watch over us. How we mourn here on Earth and it seems never ending.
That imagery just haunts me and this was quite an emotional read. Congrats on the win, seriously.