never spoken


if lines on a page

could fill her emptiness

she would write to you

all that is left of her

penning forth her heart

spilled into spaces

flowing ink to drip

into the hole she carries

since losing you

the lonely footsteps on parchment

hidden path to her journey

bound within her journal

never to be spoken

on the lips of ever after


the things that wash away

memory fails

too often than not

the sound of your voice

your choice of fragrant balm

lost into the tunnels of time

why do some things stick?

like grass stains on petticoat

faint ghost reminder remains

embedded into fabric

the leafy mark

imprinted forever on my soul

and others wash out

no matter how I try

to hold them close

or pull them back

they rinse out

running in the water

dissolving among the rolling

river of recollect