My thoughts drive up to your image on a slow, sparkling ponder.
Stretched my arms out real wide and well upon the awakening of a cushy memory.
Snatched the stuffings out of it and left you back there on a comfortable bed. In a warm spot.
But I can’t help but to glance back,
sit down and cuddle the remembrance a little bit.
But I can’t help but to glance back,
sit down and cuddle the remembrance a little bit.
Indeed, we loved in a place God hadn’t discovered yet.
Our love was just so full and so stuck.
So fat in all it’s glory.
We ate at that gluttonous table of salty pleasure until we became sick at the bitter passion of it all. Suddenly,
it wasn’t delectable anymore.
The mashing and re-frying and re-freezing of love’s spoil.
We all of a sudden curdled into an unloving state.
We all of a sudden curdled into an unloving state.
You were over the emptiness of me,
love became an unproductive deed.
And I just wanted you to know,
that I was alive.
I wanted you to know,
that I had the capacity for life too.
That I was not vacant.
But I shed and bled and emptied,
over and over again.
At the end of my trance in memory,
I return to the pillow of reality,
flavoring bland cotton with the saltiness of my life.
Will anyone ever have known
that I was a woman too?
Photo: Shutterstock
Sydney Tayler Colbert is an artist from Chicago, Illinois. Although not formally educated in writing, she considers herself a poet. Her works of writing and photography have become her life's poems.
