The Absence of Closure

By Cory Broadbent

Wearing her like a suit 

While having dinner with her friend

And wondering if I should undress

For when this night comes to an end,

Slide her off and hang her on a chair 

Or toss her to the floor beneath naked minds

As my lips are pecked and my hands amend

New heartstrings to play my songs from 

And my heart will gaze in awe and attend

To the magic of making new lovers smile,

 

But before new chapters begin

I will burn my heart in a fire 

And pour it gently into a letter 

That shall never reach your palms,

Thinking it will make everything better;

A boxed off trap of illusions bubbling in a trance.

Instead it will make me realise,

How much I didn’t say, when I had the chance.

 

Blood coated keyboards and empty whiskey bottles,

Listening to songs everyone else skips.

Packing my thoughts and taking trips,

Where I confess everything in my heart,

Of how I miss the taste of your lips

And having my hands on your hips.

Now I am an astronaut whose oxygen line

Has been cut, leaving me drowning in space

Melting in a galactic dusk, I’m dying but I feel fine 

Because this crowd of stars 

Gleam almost as bright as your eyes

 

I can feel your hands all over my mind,

Pouring gasoline into my throat 

To fuel the trip down memory lane

On this cardboard boat,

Sailing through an ocean of stars,

Hand-in-hand yet forever apart,

Breathing in dreams so we both drown

In the neon lights of our hometown.

 

Instead of your lover I feel like a pawn

Sacrificed to protect thy queen,

As your image of me is erased and redrawn,

Folding into origami wings so you can

Soar into a brand new dawn.

She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone.

 

And you know I’m just trying to stall,

So our eyes can dance a little longer,

Carving the silence into the wall

Of my moon-shaped heart chasing 

The remains of sunlight down this hall

Containing framed quotations from 

Our unanswered phone call