May the Ink Remain
I’ve wrapped myself up in the silken tapestries
I pulled from the breath of her dreams-
hoping the flow of my wounds won’t sour her memory of their beauty.
I’ve driven nails into the floor, just in front of my doorway; He’ll trip before he reaches me.
All I need is a little time.
If I have to do it.
I’ll unhinge what I’ve been crossing swords with
in-between the thrumming of his quaking 6-string.
Playing the same, unforgiving song- over and over.
Just to watch me twinge. Becoming the vibration.
If I have to let it loose to conquer the shadows cast by lucidity-
May the rain wash the blood from my letters,
and the ink remain.
I want her to know that I never meant to let him get between us. That I stared him down
in the mirror, every morning.
Before kissing her forehead and burying his
curses in the laundry before leaving-
trying to become whole.
Hoping she could find a way to devour what I was destined to become.
Because I was too weak to watch myself turn into the embers he shoveled into my throat when I tried to explain why I thought that no matter how much I loved her.
Having a child, was a bad idea.
I didn’t want to pass this on.
I can’t allow it to continue.
So, I stay awake at night.
Waiting.
For the trip.
So I can break the mirror.
And let the rainfall.
Become the embers.
And imagine it's her embrace;
A deluge softening the fire and
letting me slip comfortably into
the silence that was never meant
to be between her, and I.
-James Kelley 2017
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