Julie Hart
Under mountains of coal and ash
two, cold, porcelain figurines withstand
the years, as they grind away slowly
their lines and composition turning
to dust.
I was the culprit, tearing down the
house you built, now a stranger to the
pillars of your sunlight laughter
Embarrassed I bow with only a huge
gap I created...lifeless with no
interiors… only regret.
I knew you when there was only a small
one bedroom apartment…no monuments
to your name…when you were nervous
and alone. I loved you with my blinded
heart, at risk with too many intimate scars…
and now with memories and
no words ever spoken.
© Julia Heckman 2011
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