who is it ...

who is it ... who is it in this broken picture frame whose face smiles from beneath the cracked glass so ragged it nicks my finger and leaves a drop of blood drying like a red sun just above the tilted horizon whose bright eyes recognise the shadows of my face whose smile rekindles some sacred memory from the ashes of forgetfulness a spark leaping into flickering flame so bright it catches me by surprise then quickly flares out in a swirl of smoke who is it on the telephone late into the night whose determination calls me up to say something familiar but whose hesitation smothers a trembling voice and leaves me waiting in the quiet of my loneliness a vacancy that smothers my hope and my longing to hear the words those words the whispering promise i remember and still crave so madly that i am afraid to hang up the silent phone who is it dancing inside some sad refrain on the busy streets of my desire whose flesh once met mine in a perfect erotic rhythm and carried me towards eternity whose body met my body here and here and here the two entwined one to another like resonating vibrations of separate steel strings sharing a note within the polished wood of a blue guitar the one i played at the bus stop where i waited in my certainty that love would return never guessing that you were not coming but were somewhere else where you were waiting too who is it in the hallways of my deepest thoughts whose anger drapes the walls with stains apocryphal whose blood boils and rages at my foolishness at my wilful sacrifice that denied any other heartbeat but my own that let love go when like God's most defiant angel i stepped outside of bliss and mistook independence for freedom only to fall from grace and squander the best of chance or circumstance forevermore who is it who will lift me from despair and with renewed joy wash me clean again who will peel away the gauze of disappointment and show me where the wounds of so much ancient damage have healed into a fresh hope for love who will hold me above the river of time for the breadth of a single breath then plunge me deep beneath the water's surface to absolve me of my misdeed even at the risk of drowning me instead Copyright © Kennedy James, 2013. All rights reserved.