My Guitar

​

I glimpsed cancer through the crack in a door you left ajar

Life taught me sadness that day, so

I taught myself to play guitar

​

and I used it like a silver thread to patch

all of the spaces in my aching heart

Turned this recollection of you in my head,

into art

​

Painted a picture of you and me

with our bare feet near the lemon tree

Your skin’s no longer yellow

your laugh sounds like a cello’s

In my memory, it’s golden brown, like the Wurundjeri sun

on the way down

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In blue ink it said peeling potatoes is a form of prayer

and it made me wish, that we knew how to be alone

I broke bread with my shadow, we drank merlot,

and spoke slowly, and

danced together using the same bones

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Drew a picture of you and me in watercolour

You caught me lucid dreaming

came back, held me and said ~ I am sorry for leaving

and all the bruises on my fingertips, they started healing, and

I didn’t need to write one more sad song