Your laughter rings in my ears like
the sounds of construction on a sunday morning; uninvited, loud and disruptive.
it cuts through blue-gold dreams
i’ve stitched together.
it cracks – so seductive.
i almost forget about us but songbirds
chirp incessantly in the corner
of this boxed heart, set off by ringing
church bells we promised ourselves.
i scream your name late into the nights;
remembering your love for the feminine,
for me.
i tried looking for recipes of forgetfulness,
couldn’t reach the books, you stacked them on the tallest shelves.
where do i shovel this last bit of heartbreak?
the bathroom tiles have seen too much of it,
to not be sick anymore.
what do i do with what’s left of you,
the best of you?
i ask questions even god has no answers to,
he doesn’t remember us;
we built our own religion –
your skin and my sad songs our deities.
your laughter rings in my ears like
an old record that knows too much
of your story; welcome, soft and aching.
i play it on loop, mourning what once was;
it plays like a wedding song, breathtaking.
in search of venus 