Have you healed?

You and I hold a strange secret within us:

scents that sound of childhood.
Innocent, unweathered by repetition,
experiences that have amplified
through astonished cartilage
and tunnelled into memory.

Do you love the ones you lost?

They arrive: a sudden rap on the door,
a colour in the lonely window’s
gloam.
Curious, you breathe deeply.

A melody drizzles, soft snow,
as if the scent were distant chimes scattered
by a musical breath.

Did these memories take long to meet you?

‘strils flare, eyelids snap marble.
You’re jarred by doppler heartbeats
closest to your own.

You intensely long for someone, somewhere
you can no longer imagine
on your own.
Vinyl scratches, discomfort
inches insidiously.

In time,
moist wine spilt absorbs
into the underbelly of a carpet
in the strange house in which you rest your feet,
waiting for that voice
in silence.

From a mantelpiece miles away,
a smile splintered in dust and light
often settles
in your vision.
The tune ends,
begins,
again.
Weathering into a different remembrance.

How much do you miss them?

Eyes closed, you allow this scent
to spiral,
slide off the telephone hook
and into your poetry.

Interest turns to longing turns to
addiction,
until the words they sang for you
are notched in blurred phosphanes:
Braille verses of patchwork purity.

Are you afraid of losing them again?

On another whispered velvet evening,
The tune begins once more.
It’s easier to remember now,
again
and again.
In every gloam and snatching silence.

Slowly, you forget
that the cost of remembering
is the price of never moving on.
For conjured moments across space and time,
you’re someone’s again,
and again,
until you aren’t.

How often do you remember the ones you lost?
How often do you not?
The strangeness between these questions
is the measure of your healing.

 

Note: Image sourced from Alena Aenami’s Artstation portfolio.

One thought on “Have you healed?

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