Bitter Sweet

our timeline

warmth

[wawrmth]

noun

1. your fingertips trail softly down my spine planting seeds that bloom into stars

2. we are a never ending circle of light that does not break even as we separate. we watch as the snow falls gently against the ground from our bedroom window. it will not bury us

3. the sound of your breath against my ear is a psalm that speaks of an eternity spent between your arms and beneath your lips. our laughter rings throughout the halls. it is the song of creation

4. oh, oh, the way your voice sounds when you say my name

home

[hohm]

1. here it stands. an old beast of a thing with too many rooms and creaky pipes. an oak tree stands guard outside our front door. we hate the color of the walls and the attic is covered in dust. yet it is here that we covet. here time is unfathomable, a concept without substance. here our moments are unending, etched forever against the very fabric of the universe

2. here we shine brighter than the stars

cracks

[krak]

verb (used without object)

1. the white-hot flash of lightning against the old oak tree. i startle and fall down the stairs. the stars begin to sing off-key

2. you come home later each night and my meals are spent alone. you blame work. i don’t believe you. i begin to paint my smiles on with brave. it used to be your favourite shade. an empty whiskey bottle is sitting on our bedside table. i start sleeping at my mothers. you don’t believe me. the space between us feels more like a canyon than an inch. our circle splits. i look at you across the kitchen table. when was the last time we touched

3. i ache for you, do you ache for me too?

love

[luhv]

noun

1. a chance meeting in a crowded coffee shop that seals our fates

2. the quickening beat of my heart when i see your face causes thunder to rush through my lightning veins

3. warm hands and languid kisses in the early morning

4. the shape of your back against the sun as you leave for the nth time

5. the echoes of silence in this old and empty house are out of tune

6. the pieces of my mother’s broken vase twinkle like the stars i once found in your eyes

7. a razor wire that which we use to hang ourselves while telling the world we are happy

sorrow

[sor-oh, sawr-oh]

noun

1. there is a gently creeping monster living underneath a bed that hasn’t been slept in for days. our kitchen table bears seven empty bottles and the hallways only ever seem to carry our screams. that old oak tree has died and maybe that is why i can feel the cold seeping in. our circles have become faulty orbits hurling us into the sun and our stars? black holes greedily swallowing down a slowly imploding universe. this weight between us is going to break us. oh mary, mary-how does your garden grow?

2. a half painted bedroom on the second floor

3. oh, oh, the way your voice sounds when you say my name

absence

[ab-suh ns]

noun

1. the screen door slams. my essence is in shreds.

2. and it doesn’t matter where I go, or what I do, or who I’m with, you’re not here and I can’t forget it, seeing you in every shared moment no matter how small, a stove, a pot, a goddamn spoon and suddenly we’re in the kitchen and you’re twirling me around in your arms, my feet spin out, our laughter echoes through the house. we were once a tiny universe.

3. everywhere I look you are missing and I’m not quite sure how to get past that

an excerpt from your heart

regrets

[ri-gret]

verb (used with object)

1. seven empty whiskey bottles

2. your mother’s broken vase twinkling like the stars i once saw reflected in your eyes

3. the sound of the porch door slamming shut

4. a too small grave sprinkled with seeds that do not grow

5. the 363 times i dialed your number without hitting call

6. that day i came home to a changed lock on the front door

7. your shaking hands and the empty spaces that follow me down the silent hall

8. i never wanted you to learn how that particular fear tastes (like ashes in the back of your throat)

echo

[ek-oh]

noun, plural echoes

1. i wake to the phantom touch of your fingertips on my spine. i am bathed in your scent. the empty space beside me is warm but you are not there

2. sometimes i think i hear your footsteps on the stairs

3. the hallways sing me back to sleep with the memories of laughter

memory

[mem-uh-ree]

noun, plural memories

1. that time we played hooky and took your bike down to the lake and we fell asleep in the sun. oh you were so red and i laughed so hard at you. I thought you were going to throw me in the water but you just smiled and kissed me. i looked at you then, lit by the shining fingertips of the sun and thought that the two of us could be something. couldn’t we? it was so late when we left the sun was almost gone the stars slowly taking her place in the sky. sitting behind you on the way home with the wind rushing through my hair i felt untouchable. i knew then that i could conquer anything if only i was with you

2. here we stand eternal, forever etched against the nights sky

3. when I think of you, this is what i choose to remember. because here, for a brief moment, we were at peace

circles

[sur-kuh l s]

verb (used without object)

1. and it’s been months but i can’t sleep so i call you up. you always pick up. and i never ask but sometimes i can hear someone in the background but it never matters. we spend the night talking on the phone and your voice fills the empty spaces in my heart and we greet the morning together, laughing as the light hits my face. and it’s been months but it’s raining out and you show up soaking wet so i let you in. your skin is cold to the touch and i wonder how long you spent standing on the front porch staring at the new screen door but it doesn’t matter because here we are in bed again two bodies becoming one, a never ending circle. and it’s been months but it never seems to matter as your fingertips run down my spine planting seeds and my heart begins to grow stars where all our un-kept promises used to lie. and it’s been months but my hands are shaking so i call you up. you always pick up. i tell you i don’t how to get by without her and there you are out of nowhere sitting beside me on these hard hospital chairs holding my hands until the morning comes. and it’s been months but we’re burying your father and your mother’s face is lined with grief, empty eyes staring at that long black coffin. and you can’t stand up so i hold you up and say nothing of my aching feet or the tearstains on my dress. and it’s been months but your number is still in my phone, your clothes are still in our closet and i should really take back your key but i can’t remember my life before you and it’s been months but you can’t sleep so you call me up. i always pick up. and i go over because i hate the way the bed here no longer smells like you and i find the ring in your drawers and i should ask but i never will. and it’s been months but your mother is sick so you call me up. i always pick up. and you come over and we spend the day painting stars on all the ceilings in this old house since we both still can’t stand the colors of the walls. and for a moment i can hear our laughter in the halls and it feels like home again. and it’s been months and i’ve moved on but you stop me in the coffee shop and your hands are warm. i always did like the way you said my name.

2. and it’s been years but i can’t sleep so i call you up. you always pick up.

benediction

[ben-i-dik-shuh n]

noun

1. the press of your lips against mine. i swallow down the taste feeling it begin to blossom as the universe begins to sing in tune.

2. your hair falling softly against my skin reminds me of the stars in our eyes

3. the weight of you in my arms feels like coming full circle

4. your fingertips trail softly down my spine planting seeds that bloom into little universes

5. we are a never ending circle of light that will not break even if we separate. we watch as the snow falls gently against the ground from our bedroom window. it will never bury us

6. the sound of your breath against my ear is a psalm that speaks of an eternity spent without your arms and bereft of your lips. our laughter rings throughout the halls. it is the song of completion

7. oh, oh, the way your voice sounds when you say my name

hope

[hohp]

noun

1. your ring on my finger

2. our daughters name