The Haunting of Her Lips

 

Linking with "What's Going On?" for an Open Link-- Where we can share our favorite poem and maybe explain a little bit about it.

I actually am just sharing a poem I posted in the beginning days of the Muse and it didn't have a lot of exposure so I thought I would share it again. I have changed the image but the rest is the same. (The image was an old eerie house.)

Thank you Sherry, Mary, Susan and Sumana for all you do!

Sending everyone a big hug right now! <3 

Love, thieves, and fear, make ghosts. ~German Proverb

 You are a haunted house my love and I am the ghost that walks your halls 

I have every room memorized but you do not remember me at all

I kissed you once and I kissed you twice more

but before the next you were long gone out the door

you see time stops for only a few things in this world

childbirth/seeing a ghost/ and kissing a girl

I held you close in your red sequin gown

and paraded you on my arm all over town

but what made me fall was that first kiss

and now I am a ghost that you do not know exists.

August Lives Forever...

 

Linking with What's Going On? for this week's prompt "August"

Thank you Mary, Sumana, Sherry & Susan for all you do!

Come join us!

There is no timetable for grieving —
      Grief is a snail
      It's a shooting star
      A walk around the lake
      It's eternity
      Or frost 'til bloom —
Memories coursing through the heart
It lasts as many heartbeats as it takes;
      sometimes all of them.
~Terri Guillemets

*******************************************************

My heart is a train,

and it passes through the town of your last days

over and over again.

True destination August

 first day of school, 1972

at a hospital now abandoned.

The time and place are etched on a ticket to board,

and I take a window seat watching things pass by.

I am 61 now

having traveled 52 years since that day.

The view still has the same solemn news,

the shock and the suddenness

like a train stopping in its tracks.

I can still feel the jolt of it,

hearing those unexpected words.

More things were abandoned that day, than a hospital.

Loss is more than death certificates in file cabinets, and witnessing a last breath.

It is days that bleed into years with something greater missing.

I hold this ticket, it heads to all the places we will never go together,

and unspoken words I shall never hear.

A birth, marriages, divorce, and graduations all hold an empty chair,

the one next to mine by the window seat

the place where August lives forever.

For my heart is a train, and it passes through the town of your last days

over and over again.