I remember cake not stained by the hurry-hurry dye of “let’s get this done, before too many take note of another year added….”
I’ll choose the sweetness of grateful desire to linger over the celebration of seasons represented there at the table, the love not subtracted.
You represent a grasping to me. A place, not a soul, I turn to when my own souls feels too mortal. I come to you uncertain. Hoping, just this once, you will make me whole. I leave with scraps of self-respect. A lesser-ness of me hanging, dangling from my bones. You know this. You love me, yet you do not turn away.
You’re already leaving
Throwing around avoidable words
Solemnly slung
So as to convince the pair of us
You’re already packed
Holding back an arsenal of loving
Earnestly proclaimed
But why ever for, as we each see
You’re already gone
This pre-war, post-war frame
Quaint summer garden
Exposed brick and beam
Uneven maple plank throughout
All hard as nails, I promise
Will never cry so hard as I
On this kitchen floor
I don’t want to hear the morn’ coming in; stay at bay.
At my pace, I’ll share my fruit with the wild; bid good day.
When the sun seems warm enough, out I’ll go; come what may.
Truth is, creatures know I can’t resist them; so I stray.
This…a rabbit hole,
a different dimension.
We…without an out.
Centered
At the Center
Who or What
Is?
Early from work
To tell you how much you meant to me
I came
And you could not believe my words
Your words, I said
Meant so much to me that I gave my life
To help them along
Surprising, and how!
To adore the very storm
who will destroy you.
LisaRosier.com 