by Jenny Andrews
Days lie down
crumble all around ruins
obscured in mid-February shadows
Sundays lost amid gods long forgotten.
Sleeping in with a remembrance of his hand at the small of my back, resting there,
his lips flutter behind my earlobe,
the scent of him-musky like sweat,
his kiss sweet like cherries he ate that last night.
That last night,
that morning cuts through us in the longest good-bye.
Decades dissolve, melt into snow puddles
limbless trees like armless
gray gods stand sentinel outside our bedroom window,
accusing me,
accusing us.
But, in those hours past midnight,
he and I melded, mixed, and brought forth a life.
Red bird skittered across the snow mound heaped against the windowsill.
In the longest good-bye in a love that should never have been
the only thing good that remains is the life he and I brought forth; we had become like
gods,
weaving deep within me a soul,
called forth by our collective breaths.
We had become like gods,
in no need of other gods.
Behind the curtains, I stood, looked down onto the street below,
memorized the turn of his face,
the sweep of his hand across the frozen windshield of his blue Toyota.
At that second, I knew.
I knew that like a circle he and I had circled around to the inevitable ending,
But, like a false god, I thought I could stop our world from disintegrating.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student