Making a table

Untitled

Belongings faded so soon boxed away
All to be tightly held beneath a hasty promise
The dark places of our shared existence
Shorn from glitzy frames and tacked
Upon unsightly walls within a house
Unknown to me, as patterns of years
Run us past, so ceremoniously withheld

Remember I folded our old cotton sheets
Fingers turned to lines of a shared memory
Run through sleep, so many times
Through the wash, loose threads settle sun
Down, face down amongst the torn paper
Of our worlds, our empty spaces upon the walls
Which call an awkward silence profound

So darkly lit, and yet, so deeply felt
As in the letters we forgot to send
Only made to gather, as a moth
To the shade, all but an immaterial sagging
A breathless weight so ill conceived,
We spared a favourite record without its sleeve,
A voice breaking runs to argument

We read deeply in our mistakes
You and I, though the ink of our affection
Is not yet dry, I know you will keep something
Of me, close as letters, to read again some place
Far from our days and weeks and hours
When roses retuned to flowers
And all that once belonged shall fade away

PCW