the waiting

the waiting creeps up from feet, passes hips, submerges wrists in slippery uncertainty naturally, the ear strains to catch the subtle shift of air that marks departure no one ever sings through the smoke of staying - love and smoke both only ever go sometimes you get so caught up in the leaving, all kisses … Continue reading the waiting

what has been lost

love remaining half-asked, with an exile's hunger, what have you lost? smoke never stops moving, alters nothing, and leaves irretrievably when exactly does time distill us down to fire? down to accumulated passion? at what point have we traded the marked directions of known constellations for the possible light of far, unseen stars? I carry … Continue reading what has been lost

a poet’s levy

certain books stay hidden - those in which loss and love exist without conclusion and at times I may crack them - draw new maps to old places, new creatures of known constellations, and let the moon out into the room once more, to rest on shoulders that can bear the additional gravity a tolerable … Continue reading a poet’s levy

the hours of you that remain

we say goodnight, then goodnight, and once more a goodnight of softening kisses - just as the dawn cracks the night I count the hours of you that remain to me, and tuck them about us - thin comfort against the coming light © Sarah Whiteley

this is how

this is how things end then - with dancing, and a ruined heart unexpected and yet somehow not, since this is you afterall this is an emptiness that cannot redeem itself with waiting but I've grown used to thorns, have almost forgotten the fireflies, have known always that the flames could be turned to strike … Continue reading this is how