…far away from me
The corner of my heart once reserved for you
vacant and echoing now
a hushed sound aching to be heard
yet smothered into silence
like a house without doors
where none can leave nor enter
like a moonless night
where the dripping darkness captures the light
unseen drip after unheard drop
a constant stream
my heart spilling empty into emptiness
creates rivers that flow to the sea
where I am outside of myself
swimming in your dreams
far above the desolation
still hopeless of rescue
my melancholy becomes wings
the weight of which is too much
too much to bear
and still that is not enough
illusion faces reality at last
I am drifting
on the trembling edge of the truth
a truth that I do not recall
here in the wild waved ethers of sky
seconds from midnight but years from morning
susurrus whispering emanates from the shadows
that I feel but cannot see
their cold touch a strange comfort
and damp like morning dew
what my eyes cannot see
my fingers now show to me
the shadows are painting me
stroke after gentle stroke
and I am in the shallows now
drifting towards indigo
and far away from me
as if I have swallowed midnight
or midnight has swallowed me
the wings of my melancholy
are sweeping the darkness
creating a wind as if to set me free
but the fragrance of sorrow
and the taste of regret
are still singing softly to me
and the flames once bright
that I fought to revive
like a candle long used
in surrender they now slowly die
it is a gentle loss, a gentle death
a serene soliloquy
sounding out into the absence of you
while filling the absence of me
and the dark empty places
where we used to be
our love has fallen here
like flowers after rain
and only the ghosts
of our petals remain
soon to return
to the place from whence we came
ashes to ashes dust to dust
even the moon shall not see us leave
as we drift away on this broken breeze
our echoes retreating
into the silent corners of the night
where in the mirrors of time
reflections have no secrets
but vanquished by love
even our reflections
have now left us behind
© Ann Bagnall
