Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Heartburn

Heartburn

When shoulders first touch in the light of the movie screen,
your heart burns.
When the lent book ends with tears in your beard,
your heart burns.
When the years pass like the view from a train,
your heart burns.
Then the plane is taking off, without you.
Your heart burns.
The last touch of lips, cheek, arms unwrapping slowly.
Your heart burns.
For what?
For the note written on the first page.
For the photos on the walls that stay up too long.
For the reminders, the haunted spaces,
your heart burns.
For all the ways you remember,
and that t-shirt in the bottom of your drawer,

your heart burns. And it’s hard to be concrete.






1 comment:

Rebecca Ladbrook said...

Ooh nice, I like the atmosphere and the 'tears in your beard'! Good touch with the t-shirt.