Monthly Archives: September 2013

Mismanagement

I think of you as if no time has passed.

No leaves have fallen, nor snow,

since that day.

That moment my heart cracked into three pieces –

one for you

one for me

and one for the life that would never exist.

I hear it in every song.

I feel it in every breeze.

I taste it, like copper,

thrown into dusty corners and forgotten.

I wait for it,

every second.

Somehow you’ve managed to make me invisible to myself.

I look in the mirror and I don’t know what I see. Just shapes.

Lines.

Curves.

Hardened eyes.

Today I held a piece of the earth in my hands and poured myself to the ground in droplets.

They say your whole life flashes before your eyes when you die.

I hope you’re excluded.

M

Ownership

The light floods across your skin like it owns you.
Taking over your dark spaces like I never could.
Somewhere lurked a pattern that I didn’t find until it was too late..
The storm came in, thrashing all of our windows,
wetting our curtains
and extending its hands around our throats..
“You’re not exactly a great welcoming party,” it yelled.
Your hair fell out of place and struck your cheek.
You cracked a smile and I stared, wondering if I could love you.
If I should love you.
We’re always chasing something that we have no right to own.

M

 

I wish every day were like today.

This morning a friend and I got up early and checked out some yard sales. Goose Bay is famous (amongst the coast crowd, myself included) for yard sales in the summer and fall. I got some real gems this time, I absolutely love old jewellery, the older the better. You’ll see some pics below.

It also got to 23’c which is rare this time of year for this part of the province, so that meant that the bike had to come out. I went for an extended ride through the trail systems behind the area of town where I live and it was awesome. The only thing that would have made it better would have been some company.

I hope the rest of today is equally as good.

Love,

M.

Anatomy of Ink

Strange concepts;
parallel hearts
not necessarily in love – but knitted with purpose.
These streets and buildings turn us inside out,
put rot in our heads.
We are solid in our bones and in our ways.
Sinking
beneath
the fold
and separating at Atlas C1.
Trying to conceal our humanity
with vanity.
Do not forget how it’s done
-living-
You can borrow my pen if you need to understand
the anatomy of ink.

M.