It had been a jasmine evening which left its hand upon my chest, the moon so lonely I could taste her forlorn eyes. Some days prick like lemondrop needles sweet and bitter against the tongue.
Out there the wolves.
Out there the doves.
Out there a world revolves around itself and the same revolution envelopes whatever this cruelty is inside of me. I can hear you talking but I cannot let you in. There was something they gave me to take away the pain and it took you, too.
I am letting go.
The tethers are coming up
ever so slow
but I still hold you deep in my bones
even if I cannot touch you
this I know
this
I know.
My ribs full of roses blossoming thorns
swollen sadness she is breaking my soil she is
she is mine,
beautiful are the tears which do not come and I know
I’ll have to crawl up out of this grave
somehow
swallow life again but this baptismal throat is fire,
these limbs, how we have become this tired.
I do not know.
I do not know.
.
Allison Marie Conway 