Portrait
I believed I cried,
or yelled
that rainy
Montréal night
I put him to sleep,
closed his dark eyes,
covered him
with a warm,
woollen blanket
so he wouldn't be cold
the wheels of time turned
the wheels of life stopped
all my souvenirs
evolved around him
flushed through an
angelic light
as his body
slumbed in his arms
Leaves whisper in my mind
different seasons,
changing colors
salt water ceases
to flow from my body
my fountain of ink
continues to flow
like the many silk
of his skin
pen writing these words,
drench the pages
with ink
trying to remember,
so I don't forget him
yet my fountain pen
refused to stagnate us
like his portrait
hanging on
our living room wall
I grow old yet,
he will
remain forever young
hanging on
our living room wall
the warm ink flows
beneath my fingertips
hastily writing,
capturing
every word
on white-blue-lined paper
I remember
a glimpse
of a cool-calculated glance
from him:
the sun shone
mischeviously in his eye,
his lip curled
like a child's playful smirk
sometimes when the light
is right
on his portrait
hanging on
our living room wall
hangs on
our living room wall
Laughter painted
all over it
with his moustached smile
and candle-grey eyes
Autumn-orange leaves
whisper
in my head
like the many silks
of his skin
that I used to brush
His portrait
changes colour
like whispering leaves
of season
at dusk
Whispers continue
of him
hanging on
our living room wall
I crawl into his arms
one last time
The beauty of it
engraved forever
etch in bounded books
of history
and abandoned loves
like his portrait
hanging on
our living room wall
I soak this paper
in salt water
released from my body
