bronze hemlock
Grief lingers in the coffee in my hand,
With steam that rises at my command.
It’s in the smell of daffodils in bloom,
And the river where kois find endless room.
It’s in the t-shirt I wore today,
The way my hair falls in its sway.
It’s like the aftertaste that will remain,
Of a kiss you know won’t come again.
And your forehead feels the hollow space,
Where their lips once found their place.
Grief stays in the way I write my name,
Or how each word flows, never the same.
It stays like coffee upon my tongue,
A bitter note I’ve held too long.
It stays,
It stayed,
It will stay —
And around my grief I built my walls,
So tall they swallow sunlight’s calls.
Grief lingers in the steaming cup I hold,
Its dance toward the sky, a story told.
It’s in the poppies’ scent, so sweet,
The ones you loved, the ones you’d meet.
By the river’s clear and endless view,
Where I sat with only thoughts of you.
Poppies in your hair,
My gaze fixed there,
Those honey marbles beyond compare.
But grief remains when I face the glass,
And joyless eyes watch moments pass.
Their laughter no longer sparks my fire,
Yet I ache for the lips I still desire.
Sharing coffee,
In quiet chat,
You said, I missed you too, just like that.
But all I wished, one final time,
Was to place those poppies, yours and mine,
By the river’s silver gleam,
Where your reflection touched my dream,
Knowing still — you won’t be mine.
Not again, not this time
And the steam rises again
Dancing upto the sway of my hair
The poppies on my lap felt wilted
And the river had left a oxbow lake
That I dive in
Still and apart —
into which I dive
And I'm Sisyphus now,
Pushing towards a summit
that fades with my touch.
verbal sundial
bitter shuttle
if you wanna draw it, feel free, and yes I do like to make plot twist feel personal because where's the fun in not doing that?
thorn patrol