top of page
Search

#sundaypoetry - YEARS

  • Jaye Benoit
  • Jun 13, 2016
  • 1 min read

YEARS

Ice, wine, Valentine,

Murmur me your dreams of sleep.

Restfulness, I know I felt long ago, between stairways and stained knees.

I could hear my father's voice, or is it another, younger still?

I cannot catch your warm embrace, though I have yet tried to, stilt your will

And your advances. I want to feel you but resist

I rowed away, and will again, my hand aching in your fist.

I can hear my heartbeat undertow - like shattered glass, like air.

What lies within - I row away. Thrown into ocean. Leave me there.

In her memories, I whisper of days past by

Of a far-off coastland, Of the plains

Of two figures caught in a passageway

Stop me from saying your name

Resonating forward - crashing waves

Stop me from saying your name.

Stop me from saying your name.

When I surfaced back, I heard the water

Speak of seven years in horizon lines

You assured me it would melt someday

Through your hands, as cold as mine.

 
 
 

Comments


RECENT POSTS
SEARCH BY TAGS
CONNECT
  • facebook-square
  • Twitter Square
  • Black Instagram Icon
RSS Feed
  • Facebook - Black Circle
  • Twitter - Black Circle
  • email icon
  • Instagram - Black Circle

© 2016 BY JAYE BENOIT

bottom of page