Gave your ghost

This stillness suffocates.
Gasping for the scent of redemption.
We gave up a life for love.
A family for faith.
We’d trade it all to be back again.
Slowly moving in still frames, able to undo.
You pick your own ghost, holy or hallowed.
Watching over in these times of solitude.
Dead as the graveyard that occupies your mind.
There is no sound, only the wind.
Breathing through you like a howl of opportunity.
But the tombstones mark where your dreams are buried.
Long forgotten and eroding in time.
The view from the tree blurs as you swing.
Rotting strange fruit filters in.
You picture a younger self, a body waiting to be consumed.
Eager for that bark of acceptance to grow.
Yet truth peels.
Now you long to be alone with that former self.
For you never knew anyone who could love thee.

Salvation forest

This is what keeps me alive.
You drying on my skin.
Lobsters of the deep, snap memories for us to share.
For me to fish for.
Your tongue, a mind of its own.
I hope you don’t mind, that I describe you in such words.
But this is what I need.
A photosynthesis of love from sadness.
Breathing deep in me, swelling my soul.
Your Picasso honey, sweet blues of strung moments to fix.
A thorn in my side and iron lung around my heart.
Feeling you on my fingertips, presenting such possibilities.
A kiss will only do, to stain this skin.
Crawl into the space of your mind.
Where heart and head battle like warring gods.
Climbing mount Olympus.
Wax sticking, fear splitting into sweet tangible delight.
Strong roots that burst up toward the sky.
Like ghosts escaping a tomb.
Strange fruit that I hunger for, my teeth to bite upon.
Finding your heart at the centre,
I will kiss into recovery.
Restoring your pulse and transfusing our strength.
Into something eternal.
Breathe in this forest of salvation.
Return home.

Engulfed

Coming up for air, and stealing the sun.
How long can I live underwater?
Pushed to drowning by the weight of your departure.
Collapsing like time.
Peeling the skin off my life like the rind off an orange.
Covered in mess. Bloody and sticky.
Yet nothing washes away.
Nothing drifts, except the pain into tomorrow.
And once again I’m fighting for air.
Alone, battling the waves.