Anna Lovering

Cormac O Caoimh - Remember when we didn’t kiss (and a little bit of The Smiths) (by citadels)

The silhouettes of the day bend around
city fences as paper cut outs when the
sun turns shy to only hide away.
It is ‘the greatest show we can see’,
when the stars, burning bright…
fade….
fade into thin highlights that dance
amidst You and me.
As if trapped in glass bottles for
all to see. At night where I sat to
wish upon You as that one shooting star.
Your mind, so far left at sea with thoughts
of a wife who’d be kind when life had that
rewind switch to put you out as a woman of
the late night.
I wished,
wished……..
that you weren’t afraid emotionally.
A dark that you didn’t want to face, so
I should stay your light.
An equal weight as an apology,
apology.…. of a hand,
heart so heavy and still, should I sit
and stay only to stare out into the
midnight blue and feel you speak
with me as I hear you repeat aloud…..
All the while, far as you are, ‘You mean
everything to me,’ an echo…..
as the heat of a star leaves a trace of You
drawn from a wish of How I wished upon You.
While a lake complains of the shallow
empty thoughts which get thrown into
the many sides that form the lake.
Although troubles filled with licenses,
are myriad manilla papers in as
not so much drowning in the deep but curling as
lilypads upon a tabletop of life amidst a
fisherman who as a crane peels back the cellophaned sky
to allow change of a patterned cut out flight through
a watercolored night.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3pqloZnAQsA

There was a tree with your name
carved on it.
We met there once or twice, while
You held me silently, as the air
breathed slowly…..
Too many pauses like rain.
I waited….but ended up empty
handed…
You have no feelings left to hurt,
with an open mind, and eyes around
an open land.
A heart, Yours, reflected against a sky
that speaks as You should leave with a
stamped good-bye.
It was the letter that You left as a
message, not left to question.
The stains held against your face,
along side those reflected train track plates….
as a whistle, those Ravens who faced
there dance against a wheat plain.
Where Moths, speckled the tops at night in
life as a carousel of graphite.