Sometimes.  Sometimes, when I am alone,
 I slowly, warily try and bring myself back.
 Cry out the rotting lump in my throat,
 pull at greying hair, a constant reminder,
 life is passing and you are no longer there.
 Unable to breathe. A little girl lost,
 flying kites into thunderclouds.

Glancing faces of mornings in all their glory
 delivers me to rest – and now I’m blessed
 with a life I guess at in your absence.
 Heart stolen hard – drum tight face
 that’s melting the hell of no tomorrows.

New riches to rags physician stirs and grinds
 toxic past into sand, a pacified thoracic cavity.
 Fission and fusion of soporific delusion
 feeding a longing for foetal peace. I am safe
 and saved. Yet iron lung love is stillborn.
 His unexpected, resisted gift of healing
 is only sealed by white ribbon of time.

© Katypoetess 2015