For A.J.

Posted: March 21, 2011 in My Poetry
Tags: , ,

31 years,
a slow river’s flowed
down this cold canyon;

the hollow of my chest
where his head once lay.
Soft hair shielding me
from the green eyes
of the world.

This river’s path
has never changed –
Gone underground, at times,
but always coursing
through my chest,
my veins, my heart.
As much a part of me
as any other, at this point.

Behind my eyes,
tears push hard.
They want to
join the river.

But I keep them there,
my lucky charm.
I might cry him away
and I want him to stay


  1. bex says:

    gutted, this leaves me gutted.
    sad, beautiful piece.

  2. bluebee says:

    Love the metaphor in this peom. bb

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