Morning Truths

When you wake
looking for me
one last time –

remember:
silently, how cold
I was, the night

no one came.
Dry your tears
in her soft hair –

where memories, of me,
will be carried away
by armies of lice.

It would be fitting,
to grind, what is left,
of me, to dust: spread it,

over your new hearth;
she won’t notice;
not underneath –

all that is new,
where the passions
of your home fires

burn, I will fade
in morning cinders,
and you can tell her:

‘I never had a life,
not before you’
it can be true.

-LJ

Advertisements

I see it in your eyes, he said,
suspiciously, I glanced –
perhaps a piece of my soul slipped out?

In my head, under the Eiffel tower
Parisian lights polluted the Seine river
reflecting the lovers here before;

blinding our histories – fresh air accosted
every sense, the limited space between our bodies
grew hope, love fragrant in the night air.

-L.J. Lenehan

Another Dime Store Prince

Another dime store prince
living in a nineteenth century
ice box.

Empty aluminium clamours in the night.
He’d already packed my things
but wanted my truths.

Frozen by fear, my truths are muted,
frost bitten, one more hurt
under the avalanche of snow.

The reflection of the city night, questions:
why now?
But in a world full of nows

there are no answers
and my dime store prince, so gentle,
so adamant to protect his solitary fortress –

he fears spending what he has not got
I wish this might have ended
different to the rest.

-L.J. Lenehan1220597235-m

Motionless from the view of your soul,
disguised in pain, waiting for the knock
of my heart at your door.

Should you open – I might listen
to your stories, if you listen to mine
we can put this world to right.

How romantic it sounds: naked love,
a timeless collapse of you and me
indefinite in a wild undercurrent.

-L.J. Lenehan

4660151b791f1603d6a0edac9b054b75

Dancing angrily,
the air of the chimney – whips
surly flames

mocking tales of fairy endings
creations of the devil
tempting us all

to one more day
of wishes, suffering, happiness
trivial mysteries.

-L.J. Lenehan-
turf+fire+framed

Elephant Girl

My heart, the elephant
of my fate, broken and painful
stumbling through this journey,

without a herd,
without compassion,
without a lover,

I walk through hot coals laid for me
by you, singing my skin, you stare,
until I burn, you turn and go.

But I am the strength
I need in your aftermath
to rise again.

-L.J. Lenehan