a message for you.
please excuse my dust as this blog site is still under construction.
hiding my face in my hands.
(posted on Friday, September 18 by eii wyy nae.)
if this shell broke in two, split on purpose like the egg in your hands, do we mask it together with saliva & rizlas or do we sweep amongst ash into dregs of beer bottles by your bed, forget it was ever really whole, dissolve the memory into an aspirin of the forgotten parts of us, pretend nothing smelt like oceans nothing left sand in pockets that had never seen the sea, decide it was just like every other shell i found on whitby bay:
crossed legs were numb from the command of burrowing hands, razor shells slit hangnails, glass polished by no man’s hand, hours were there, buried in the sea, the waves came to kiss my feet you were there, wings spread, eyeing the shell i cradled all the way home, careful for blackbirds.
there is a space beneath the ribs i haven't seen & if the fantastic voyage were possible, would i dare to be brave & take a peek at what i've only ever been able to feel? it thuds in your throat, i felt it, trying to jump ship, pulsing like wet sand, without the squelch between my toes. can we share it without blood on our hands?
it may hurt & you are useless at promises.
Signed with love,
the diarykeeper, eii wyy nae.
Labels: burrowing hands., crossed legs, fantastic voyage, numb, razor blades, rizlas, squelch, whitby bay
