PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 Hands

always touching the past 

I can cut you loose now

like a wild animal 

my rehabilitated heart,

red ball of mass,

churning forward 

gathering up hope like tumble weed

And I was going to hold you

in these battered arms 

one very last time 

like a dead thing I tried to save

But I think not. 

Ghosts should remain exactly 

where they are

Where they last stood standing,

alive,

gracious, 

remembering the joy

I will keep you right there

locked in place

inside the tiny bones that brace me

Forever

Maybe

Or until the dust and Earth

cover you over,

Swallowing up your face 

your name 

from my lips, my brain

until I do not still love you.