CRASH

 

Did you wipe your feet
upon my head
before you walked
over me?

Allow me to bend first, at least.

Was I so accustomed
to your disregard
that I could not
feel you

tearing through me,
leaning on me,
raiding me,
raping me?

Did you wipe your sweat
across my brow
to save yourself
time?

Let me fetch you a towel first, my lord.

Was I so unaware
of your self serving scent
that I put myself
forward

in offering,
in sacrifice,
to serve and satisfy?

Was I the fool
you perceived me to be
while you pillaged me
of dignity?

I saw a light
in the beginning
in the distance
and again
at the end

I thought it
to be salvation
but it turned out
to be your reflection
in the mirror

I was standing
behind you
but, as always,
you didn’t see me

you couldn’t see
beyond yourself
and that self-centredness
that took us over

like the sharp glare
from the car light
when it’s too late

and Crash…

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly

SILENT ABSENCE

Missing you,
The silent absence,
The stillness,
The sadness,
I close doors
And pretend
You’re behind them,
I turn out lights
And imagine
You’re beneath them.

But

The silent absence,
The loneliness,
The moodiness,
Says so much more
About the distance
Now dividing us
Than all the noise
We ever made
When you were here.

And yet I’m still

Missing you
Here and now,
Amid tasks of
Dividing, deciding,
Rising and dying,
In this house
In this home,
In the city
All alone.

All the while

Missing you
As clocks tick
And miles multiply
Like all those
Minor mistakes
Unmaliciously made.
Maybe the miles
Will make more of us
Than the holding did.

And then back to

Missing you,
Missing you,
Missing

Even though

I missed you
Just as much
When you were here…

BLANK CANVAS

I thought it lonely
To be together
With so much standing
In between,
But now,
In this solitude,
These moments tick
Like echoes
Of what’s been lost,
Like laughter
Now fading,
Like love
Now separating,
Like the time shared
Now a fragment of another life,
Another hold we let go of,
Another force to fragile to fight.

I though it lonely
To be together
But this solitary life
Is not the picture
I wanted to paint,
There is too much still life,
All but lines and lessons,
No rhythm,
No reason,
Only a melancholy
In its lack of movement.

White,
Black page,
Blank canvas,
Again?