Finding the place where echoes go
Where no one knows the why or when
We’re here then gone, and still the same
And feelings trap us in the gaze
Of amber hearts, and silent days.
My life is a red kite, the hawk, the eye of the wind. The Downs still call my mind with memories, but my blood burns for more. The city streets want my feet to come clattering back, over pebbles thick with pigeon shit, and lives. An oil slick of modern faces on ancient stones.
I haven’t time to stop, to look back, to find the place where feelings go. Where lives and lovers lurk, in shadows that keep their tongues on fire and eyes bright with what was. There are new things; there is moonlight, jagged on the black waters of another heart.
We’re so close to something better left unknown.
I can feel it in my bones.
Oh Emily. You would know what to do, if I asked; but maybe the answer isn’t mine to learn yet. How about that refrain? Isn’t it one we knew well, over our shared guitars and posters and books on the wall, the teeth of knowledge, biting our bones and breeding new thoughts, for minds still craving more.
I always seem to ask for more. Nothing surfaces like a friend, an idea, a map to walk through with a finger; a kite, bowed into the breeze, watching me with eyes that see my life and death as one; and it’ll come for me, in a blue twilight and lamplight haven. I carry my key in my fist, cold light in my palm, ready for what happens next. For the punchline.
Sometimes, glancing back, I see him still.
There’s nothing more I’d like, right now, than that fire. But my hand is already blackened.
Get too close to the flame.