If you were lucky
your eyelids were thick
heavy with yesterday
when the light of morning
tried weakly
to poke you
but mine were thinly
veiled gossamer
just wispy covers
disguised by lashes
when a tender breeze
stirred up trouble
as the light of morning
angrily flooded in
pouring over me
like yesterday’s guilt
and turning my back
only widened the shadow
The corner of her mouth
lifted at his gentle teasing
is now a tightened line
that is afraid to laugh.
And her shoulders sighed
with a nagging stiffness
that begged for his relief,
but his touch never surfaced.
Nightfall is her only solace
where his passing shadow
no longer has the power
to darken her brightest day.
Every day
unseen particles
drift down
from where you dance
and swirl up a storm
or punch pillows
as you cry
down a drought
and land in a whisper
on the surface
of every solid thing.
Neat freaks
will never take the time
to amass enough matter
allowing them to push a trail
of memories
into a dusty heart,
an accumulation
of yesterday’s unspoken words,
lingering,
waiting
for you to shake things up
again.