PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

headlights race towards the corner of the dining room

half illuminate a face before they disappear

you breathe in forty years of failing to describe a feeling

i breathe out smoke against the window

trace the letters in your name

our letters sound the same

full of all our changing that isn't change at all

all straight lines circle sometime

you said "somewhere there's a box full of replacement parts

to all the tenderness we've broken or let rust away

somewhere sympathy is more than just a way of leaving

somewhere someone says 'i'm sorry'

someone's making plans to stay"

so tell me it's okay

tell me anything, or show me there's a pull

unassailable, that will lead you there

from the dark, alone, benevolence that you've never known

or you knew when you were four and can't remember

where a small knife tears out those sloppy seams

and the silence knows what you silence means

and your metaphors (as mixed as you can make them)

are linked, like days, together

i still hear trains at night, when the wind is right

i remember everything, lick

and thread this string that will never mend you

or tailor more than a memory of a kitchen floor

or the fire-door that we kept propping open

and i love this place; the enormous sky

and the faces, hands that i'm haunted by

so why can't i forgive these buildings

these frameworks labeled "home"