Pain, Loss, And Art

The birthday call

The phone rings at precisely twelve

A shuffle, a pause

“Hi, happy birthday”

“Why thank you”

The awkward silence

Stretching, expanding, drowning

Every minute weeping,

Telling the tale

Of a different memory.

*

The world out there

The sky and earth

Niches carved for sun and stars

It’s still the same

“But all the songs make sense now”

They do, they whisper assurances

The lyrics within grasp now

I understand,

I swear.

*

Twilight saddens,

Sunrise brings peace,

Noon brings light

It’s you,

Shifting, changing

You’re the malleable one

It’s all in your head, child

It’s all in your mind.

*

A brand new day, today

Denim against your skin,

Glad to feel something again

If only the pair of jeans

You got on sale that day

When you never knew him,

And barely knew yourself

“Starting afresh today…”

What a bad idea

For once,

Instinct goes ignored

Slide the keys in

The ignition purring

Soft, safe.

Bad.

*

And then,

The run in at the coffee shop

Looking down,

The cup in your hands

Willing the white steaming foam

To save you,

“Hi, how are you?”

“Just good. You?”

The birthday call, seven days ago

Recollection

And with it, pain

Feet shuffling, heart beating

Measured breaths,

And oh, the ragged silence

It never used to be like this

And him, the very sight of him

Destructive.

*

The brown eyes

That forever seemed just a little sad

The tapered fingers,

One hand clutching coffee

Like a lifeline.

Musician’s fingers, you called them

Slender at the base,

The artist’s hand.

And yet,

The strength in those instruments

So often,

They saved you from falling,

Tumbling straight

Into unconsciousness

Ahh, memory.

*

All it took

Was a split second

You’re right back,

You’ve been running in circles child

It won’t stop

It never will

Damn it.

*

You shift, clear your throat

A fledging trying to hop

He doesn’t know the power he holds

Age old,

A secret only boys know,

And men practice.

“Alright well, I’ll be going now”

“Yeah, I have to leave too”

And so, departure

The change lying forgotten

On the marble topped counter,

Your broken, absent minded love,

Made the barista’s day

Take your happiness where you can

Snatch it.

*

Back,

Under a familiar coverlet

Incoherent stammering,

Hot tears

Leaving ashes where they blaze down

Seven days,

The week scraping away

Leaving you raw, burnt.

Those fingers,

Clasped in someone else’s

Could it be?

And your mind goes wild

The secrets trapped in that soul

Exposed to another

“What do I do?!”

Your impotence goading

Scenario upon scenario

Jealousy, anger, grief,

Fear and horror and anguish

But most of all,

The love,

Overwhelming, breaking

It’ll kill you.

*

Stay, awhile

Cradle your pain,

Feed, nurture it

And out of the debris,

Emerge.

Art isn’t easy

Hes gone,

But you remain

All that’s left of you

Put it back,

Rip it apart,

Over and over

Eight days since the birthday call

You have your words

And she has his attention

Strive

Burn to rise again

Fight, write

Who ever said the artist feeds on happiness?

Not me.

*