Saturday, 24 November 2012

Commit to Memory

You are my favourite poem.
I have analysed each syllable,
mouthed each word,
sung every line and
recited each stanza,
over and over and over again.
I have breathed it in until
it was committed to memory.

You are my favourite poem.
I have read it each night,
and exhaled it each morning
in a whisper that encircles me
penetrating my very skin and
delving into the depths of me.
Until you become a part of me,
never to be separated.

You are my favourite poem.
And you always will be.

Friday, 2 November 2012

Fragile Things

I have not found home in a place,
After years of feeling that home is a myth
I discovered that my home is a person.
My home is you.

I have not found comfort in family,
And all this time I thought all families were broken,
But you and I, we are not broken.
You are my family.

I have never belonged to anyone or anything,
And I firmly believed that nobody wanted to claim me,
But I am yours and you are mine, we belong.
And we always will.

I have placed my soul in your hands,
You hold a fragile thing, carry it well.
I breathe through your lungs,
My heart beats within your rib-cage.
Fragile things. Broken things.
Cradled and mended.
Carry them well.