I’d Reach Out If It Wasn’t So Far
20 years of dizzying changes gone by.
I miss our times together my brother.
The old wounds have faded and gone
soft in my heart.
I know they were never deeper than my
over sensitive skin anyway. To hear your
voice on the phone every few years is
nice, but I love to see your great big smile
dance across your face and hear that deep
so true laugh rise from your chest.
We parted ways on uncertain terms, but there
was not malice in me when you got
on that lonely Greyhound bound for the deep
South. I’ve missed you over the years as I left
our Northwestern home state and moved across
the world to my Far East destination.
I should have reached farther. I should have reached
out sooner. The bridge isn’t burned, but I can see tiny
tendrils of smoke rising in the distance and I worry.
#poetry #poem #loss #family #grief
Forever and a day
I do not need forget-me-nots, he loves me, he loves me not.
Forget? Forget my first lov, I will not.
Winter storms may have sunk the sun, succumbing beneath the surface of a particularly suffocating snow, but that same buried beam shone upon my parents on the day that I was born.
Except it was not they who were the lucky ones.
The lucky one was me.
There was no greed, no jealousy, no lies, no deceit, that blossomed on that dismal day, for the pollen had distributed already, there upon us three, a new-made family.
Love would now bloom in our hearts, forever and a day.
And that will always be my first love, for all I am was crafted then, and all because of they.
#fiction #fantasy #prose
Blog - Hannahvernon.co.uk
Dependant
Sometimes, I find it hard to live, but for you, I promise I will always try.
Blog - Hannahvernon.co.uk
Darling, I can still hear it still
The flap.
It came unstuck last night.
Again.
I told Tabitha to fix it. I told her. I really did this time.
Last time though, I forgot.
I am always forgetting things.
Like why, when I wake, my bed is always so very cold, as if a shadow walked over my soul.
And why, when I dress, each garment itches, though I had determined months previously to extract every label, every loose stitch, every imperfection.
Yet still, my skin crawls as the fine hairs of my clothing send spiders scuttling over the surface of my warped and wrinkled flesh.
But the flap was different.
I remembered the flap.
I remember how it sounded, disturbing the silence with its metallic screech, the patter of paws and the clatter of claws, stealing through my frozen heart.
Every time the strays descend, the armada lurches in my chest. The waves rise and the ocean lifts, and the spray then seals my lungs. I cry out at night, praying now for silence, when once, the sounds meant peace.
So please, darling, when you visit next, tell Tabitha to nail the flap, to bury those memories.
A broken heart cannot bear the sound, especially when it’s me.
#author #writer #dream #fiction #fantasy #memory
Blog - Hannahvernon.co.uk
Sonnet for Good
The ocean kneads & shoots,
undertow curling with places to be.
In the distance: sailboats.
A clock tower rings its bells,
sipping up light. Light, everywhere.
Black-eyed susans bend over the water.
Wind knuckles its way down
and helps everyone float.
Sand rollercoasters and sprinkles,
flits down the beach.
Little bugs crawl and take cover,
though there’s nothing to hide from.
I’m meant to be dead.
I mean I didn’t think I’d make it this far.