Beyond the blues
I need the pain of blood and ink and steel,Punishing words into my flesh,
To fix my soul upon this body;
To hold it in place like a struggling butterfly
Pinned to velvet without benefit of ether.
The soft stroke of piano keys and guitar strings
Release these blues-flavoured tears
That stain their way down my cheeks,
And trickle into the hole in my chest where my heart used to live.
Melting ice leaves a vacancy;
And Nature, they tell me, abhors a vacuum.
I try to guard myself
With turned-in shoulders and hands crossed
And nails that dig at my collarbones;
But fragile fingers make a poor shield,
And my ribcage creaks and snaps
As the entire world tries to force its way beneath my sternum.
I no longer know if I am big enough to contain this,
Or if I will simply burst at the seams,
And end in a tragic shower of beautiful words
Written on strips of ticker tape that fall quietly onto the pavement.
for O.S., with my thanks
© mjc 03 October 2017
