the archivist

in the wide house

of our lives

I am sitting cross-legged

on the floor

like you at your desk

you left a cardboard box

marked ‘Love’

for me while I lay 

dreaming of you

in your bed

the lid is tied together

with long black ribbon

and as I pull it apart

it whispers

like an exhaled breath

the contents

though worthless

to anyone else

hammer on my heart

like summer rain

I pull out

the napkin you dried 

my tears with

the corners stained with

salt and coffee

there’s the cream

you gently smoothed 

onto my foot

after a drunken

stumble home

out of the sand-covered

bottom I pick up your

perfume bottle

now empty after I drank

all of the sweet nectar in

a cake, a card, a train ticket

to Corsham, letters in your 

hand protected by your seal,

a sparkling nose piercing and

four chords: C E7 Am7 F

turning I notice other boxes

in every room 

all marked ‘Love’

waiting to be filled

by your devoted hands

and in the nursery I find

three other boxes

marked with ‘Love’

and N, T and S

they are the biggest of all

Reviews

[Richard]

I don't think there's anything insane about you ... this is very sane and very good
I love the non-sequiturs and the simple language it's something everyone should read I loved this :)
those are great chords hah