what if
one’s heart is still,
hanging like a breath waiting to be taken…
follow your heart, he said
categories: Poetry
what if
one’s heart is still,
hanging like a breath waiting to be taken…
she searches for her husband in concrete cracked
with ill intent
hades has windows, if no exit
mourning belches
shards of night
fling sleep like blood into
the dawning light
written by
judith cockman
copyright ©judithcockman2006/2011
…my lips have gotten larger
my eyes smaller …
memory re-weaving my face
The wisdom I have achieved with middle age smacks of hypocrisy
The little pearls I have strung along my necklace of experience
proving to be mere costume…
exhaustion,
You look beautiful tonight.
Candlelight is so forgiving.
Pecking at your food becomes you. It serves the haunted hollows of your eyes, your cheeks … thinly veiled. Tiny veins peeking through, hungry for love.
I love holding your hand.