Poetry / Lost Lullabies

He serenaded me with his life-long song of strife. Played the violin strings as he sang what now I can only hear as a chain of whispers to his past hoping to make it clear, to make it right, or just to justify its place in the now when all I could hope was that one day he could make it just that; the past. But even through the laughs, the melody remained. It stained his writing, the words that he spoke when we shut the light and lay, tangled as one, we lay, breathing as one, we lay, and he sang to me a lullaby of goodbyes he never go to say, we lay, lost in the darkness that remained even after the sun came up each day. But as my eyes closed, as I drifted into dreams of rainbows and two year olds he slept, eyes open in dreams of rainstorms and a thirteen year old boy who was left standing in the middle of the road without a direction or even a connection to the home at the top of his driveway. He had to leave that behind, pack duffle bags of every kind, of tears and fears and sweaters to keep him warm for the next few years while he tried to make someone else’s house his home. Memories stuffed into cardboard boxes, and stored in random hallway closets beside the dustpan and under the coat belonging to the man that wasn’t his father. Years of basement bedrooms and keeping his toothbrush stored in his top draw, and he saw me as the woman he could sing to because I’d seen him cry before. So I listened, spoke when asked, let him serenade me with his past and play the violin strings, and I’d answer when he looked at me with the eyes that said “please, I need you to say something, anything, or nothing at all but be a body to kiss and a hand to hold.” as we fell asleep.

You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.

Reviews

January 05, 2006

jordanmbobe

No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
136	93.3% (14 votes)	33.1%

personal info reviewer stats

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
27	M	Martinsville, IN	January 02

jordanmbobe reviewed Version 1 - Read 100%% of the Item

I like this one even better than the last, though again it left me feeling numb. Proof this one up some, there was at least one error. I like your writing style a good deal, like the content of your poems, and love the fact that you can write with emotion and still leave the reader feeling hollow by the end. Almost Poe-esque.