Sunday, June 03, 2012


Sketching the sky and the clouds and the sun The paper and the pencil becoming one She sighs and brushes her thumb across those longing lips Blinking slowly and with precision She pushes hard on the pencil Certain of where her lines will take her The shape of his hand comes easily Memorized be hers The rest of him follows quickly after Sitting on a bench Emptied of joy Pausing to pick up her cup She sips long—enjoying the icy cool Of that lemonade that slides down her burning throat Her soul knows what her heart doesn’t yet A deep knowledge of the loneliness that isn’t just visiting An unwanted guest that has taken up permanent residence in her guest room She knew she should never have made it feel welcome Breakfast and hot showers and conversation at the dinner table She should have made it sleep in the garage or on that lumpy couch So it would be anxious to leave A sigh leaves her chest Emptying her lungs and heart Setting the glass down on the edge of the table
She takes up her pencil again A new sheet of paper A new truth to be laid forth (full or words she’ll never say) Picking at the lifeless strings He attempts to bring the beauty in him back to life But it seems it is dead and gone and refusing to return The glistening wood of his guitar is fading As his eyes lose that shimmer that is inspiration His voice manages to croak out her name A half-whisper at dusk It holds all the desperation that has eaten his heart alive His hand tingles and he stretches his fingers Slowly in and slowly out The sudden warmth found there catches him off guard It is gone as suddenly as it came Once again the loneliness makes itself at home Looking over his shoulder as he tries to write The one letter that could change his life Loneliness makes it clear that it won’t work So he drops the pen A half-written word and a few smudges Are all he has to show for effort Returning to his instrument He longs to play for her again Instead he takes it and puts it away Locks the closet shut and sits on the cold tile in the kitchen The ache in his bones is aggravated But he likes the pain Almost numb Loneliness taps him on the shoulder and strikes up a mournful band And he can’t stop the tears this time A new sorrow to be sung A new truth to be wrung (from his wash rag heart) She packs up her pencils and pads of paper Strewn around her in the park She folds her picnic blanket The time it takes her shows how it pains her Every movement takes effort Moving too quickly could easily break her Dragging herself home She walks up the steps and just stands there The sigh that has been her constant companion makes its way from her chest Loneliness answers the door Assures her that there’s not fire at the hearth Or tea kettle on the stove There’s no warm blanket to be found And the cold wind will surely blow through the cracks in her fa├žade Loneliness says this all with his grey mask in place He hands her the mask he’s chosen for her She takes it Knowing she has no other choice Tying the dull string in a knot behind her head She resigns herself to this future A new well of pain to be dug up A new lie to be pinned up (in her hall of lonely fame)

He lays his head against the pane of glass in the front room He watches another colorless sunset Frost is clinging to his portal As he breathes and realizes his breath is cold too A product of the ice that has taken to his heart Loneliness has become the host and he the guest In a house full of grey water that laps at his ankles at all times A bed that is always slightly damp with blankets that smell of mold The cold can’t be edged away And loneliness lets him know that it will always be this way A tired acceptance fills his soul He sits in his chair Praying for sleep Praying for her Praying for the pain to someday be less Just a fraction less A new day to dawn A new ending to be drawn (from the deck loneliness has dealt)

Two people who let the loneliness Creep inside and steal their joy They seemed to find it in every dust-filled corner They blamed it for their problems And decided it was right Living with loneliness instead of each other Though both sides of the bed were full They couldn’t see each other anymore Just the masks that loneliness had chosen for them to wear And they obeyed it.

This is from heelsoverheadoverheels and she wrote it on a late Christmas eve.

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