You are wrong
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You are wrong as the emptiness
that fills the space after rejection –
monotonous and monotone, a faker in the flesh.
Once taking up a whole continent in mind,
you were the designated bearer of sunlight.
I cared for your wrists, your pulse, the offspring
of your brilliance. I stood beside you, always a little lower,
maybe sterile, never enough. It was that voice that weighed
inside of me holding a gravity of its own, glorifying
even the cold intake of breath after words, your words
that meant more to me than memory, that wore into me like
acid painted on my skin, scorching, welcoming because
they were harsh and indisputable. But now
I exile you from my soul.
Your spring cleaning is death to my desire.
You are wrong and flat and you
don’t smell the same. You exist, but only as a chair does
or a house full of boring furniture. You have two
feet, still standing, but I imagine nothing hidden in your eyes –
what I see is beyond my attachment, easy now
to walk away from.
.
..
Copyright © 2014 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
First published in “VIMFIREmagazine”, October 2014
http://www.vimfiremagazine.com/
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You can listen to the poems my clicking below:
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