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bythesea Oct 2017
when that soul you knew
becomes just a face again
that's when you know
you've forgotten
bythesea Oct 2017
one day i held hands with you
and then one day i didn't.

just like that i forgot
the way you smell


how you fold your clothes

how you go to sleep at night

i forgot your routine
how you shift

i've lost your sight.
just like that i lost your voice
i used to live with you

inside you
beside you
entwined, wrapped
our mother soothed us
with her songs
her tongue on our eye
she held us both
so we didn't need to
hold ourselves


we lived off of memories
moulded new ones, fostered the
old
bookcases kept full of books we wanted to re-read but never did.

we watched her stir pots
and build bread
food was our religion,
the ritual of our childhood.

and just like that
i left you.
you left me

we became bonded by distance
i've been searching for a way back home to you.
bythesea Oct 2017
i hear your silver
i know i'm home
your hands were the colour
of pomegranate peels
and your nails
were a dark amber
i see their tremble
i know their worry
i know it's a gentle worry
a migraine of substance
a blossom of wisdom
that won't let me be
less than
bythesea Oct 2017
the window
the kitchen
the tree
the lemon
the honey
the water
the secrets
the house
the dust
the war
the war
the war.
bythesea Oct 2017
my father's home
the greyed blue tile of
the bathroom wall
and a caged pendant light,
a rusted mirror,
a rusted couch. and
only boxes were left.
the schoolboy,
his home

all that he told me of friendship
and of mountains climbed
all that he told me of kindness
and neighbours
and plastic tablecloths
and pastries made
and of the city
the new town
the village on the mountain
the struggle and the love
then came life.

then.
came home.
bythesea Oct 2017
you turn to light like the
darkness does,
slowly.
give it time to turn to honey
bythesea Oct 2017
clay surrounded you
until your bones were terra cotta.

your body dressed
only in windows, and trees brushed the ocean from outside.
you were raised by sunsets
And away from the fire
So you have a coolness to your
body.
And the city was your soul.


inside, like your city, you are made
of clay.
your bones are like rust, but only
coloured that way;
you still have movement to your body.

you don't walk you sway, a dance down the road of madrid.
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