Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Little things

Pomegranates in the fridge.
Cast iron chicken.
Crowns on blue boxers.
Collage art.
Mask studio in small places.
Accordion practice.
Yellow legal pads.
Terms of endearment:
sparkle feet
cuddle foot
cuddle monster
cuddle toe
cuddles
ed
beloved.
"Dare I say her name?"
The beginning of a romance penned in your notes. 
Laughter is a gift.
I don't want to forget us.
I can barely remember ten years ago.
When my memories are discarded like old skin,
all I will have is the fact that I once I knew you.
You loved me and I loved you.
The smell of your cooking is gone.
Your voice is gone.
Your clothing, packed and stored two years now,
smells of nothing.
Every artifact is devoid of you.
These are just books on the shelf.
These are a just a pair of broken glasses.
This is just a half finished project.
These are things. Just things.
Lifeless objects, symbols of pain.