love makes the world go round

18 Nov 2017

love makes the world go round

They have photographed the brain

and here is the picture, it is full of

branches as I always suspected,

each time you arrive the electricity

of seeing you is a huge

tree lumbering through my skull, the roots waving.

It is an earth, its fibres wrap

things buried, your forgotten words

are graved in my head, an intricate

red blue and pink prehensile chemistry

veined like a leaf

network, or is it a seascape

with corals and shining tentacles.

I touch you, I am created in you

somewhere as a complex

filament of light

You rest on me and my shoulder holds

your heavy unbelievable

skull, crowded with radiant

suns, a new planet, the people

submerged in you, a lost civilization

I can never excavate:

my hands trace the contours of a total

universe, its different

colours, flowers, its undiscovered

animals, violent or serene

its other air

its claws

its paradise rivers

🌴

I Was Reading a Scientific Article by Margaret Atwood

I could have kissed you forever

I could have lain with you

in a tangle of sheets and tongues and crazy, wild hair

with the rain beating against the foggy windowpane

and touched your face

as our warm

eyes and souls and bodies

melted into one

with God

the perfect trifecta

I could have stayed there

forever

and then another endless, beautiful day

and not ever have asked for more

than to love

and be loved

like this

by you

💋

Amy Lloyd

rituals

I’ve eaten a shrimp

and a scallop

in celebration

keeping the shell to remember

this unique pilgrimage of mine

I’ve drunk a bottle of wine and smashed the empty bottle against the barn door

enjoying the mirroring sound of my broken heart

as well as, the dizzying freedom of that fruited company

I’ve burned the scroll

I made when the moon was full

the one where I prayed for you to return to me

then wrapped it in a tight roll

tied with a silk ribbon

I smiled smugly as I watched it burn

I’ve given away all my shoes and boots

(the ones you bought me)

along with the Mont Blanc Pen

the phone, the computer, the music

the collection of special wooden cutting boards

(I loved so much)

and every other little everything connected to you

gone

I’ve tossed and turned in my bed

full of pain and confusion for long drawn months

singing the same song over and over

just for you

(though I know your heart won’t hear me)

I’ve lifted my palms to heaven

and given you to God

pictured you floating free

in a beautiful ballon

waving bravely to you as you disappear in the clouds

I’ve taken you to the alter

and left you there

encased in a special heart shaped stone

I had filled it with love for you from my palm of my empty hands

still longing to touch

and be touched

I’ve written you

and danced you

and walked you

and run you

I’ve sung you

and cried you

and left you

and wanted you

What else am I supposed to do?

I can’t forget you

I can’t unlove you

❤️💔❤️

Amy Lloyd

My favorite response to this poem:

Fold him up and tuck him away in your pocket. Take him with you. Grief is good. You will learn to be happy in your grief. Even tho it will always be with you tucked away. You will learn to be happy in it. And some day you will be walking along and you will come to a bridge.

Take your grief from your pocket, tear it into a thousand pieces. Let them flow over the bridge. Watch the beauty of all the tiny pieces fluttering away in the breeze. You will smile. You will feel freedom…………d.d.