L. V., I Found This Poem On The Back Of Your Hand

The day I realised I’m going to be me for a lifetime,
I met Grief.

She was sitting on the curb
just around the corner; face resting on her hands,
elbows on her knees.

When you died, I understood why
people need to grieve.

You see, it’s so close to a year
since the funeral
and the memory of every vein
that runs across the back of your hand
is still crystal clear to me.

Without grief, how could loving someone be possible?

When I die, I don’t want anyone to find the body.
Let’s keep the world guessing.
Is she still alive? Was she ever alive?
Did she drown, fall off a cliff? Did she bleed out, starve?
Did something big and raging devour her whole?
Did she vanish into thin air?
Maybe this is why he called her a mystery.
Was it a murder? An abduction?
Look for a ransom note. Perhaps a suicide note?

The day you realised you are going to be yourself for a lifetime,
I hope you walked around that corner with your head held high;
your shadow, following closely behind.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem on the back of your hand

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More Posts from Literaryvein and Others

literaryvein

10 months ago

Detail of "Die Suche" ("The search")
Hanno Karlhuber, 1996

There's a dream in which we meet at the edge of a cliff
right before you and I could take the leap

-L. V.

so we made a pact to see the world together
until the money runs out and we'll come back here,

-L. V.

rewrite our suicide notes and tear them up, feed them to the wind.
But somewhere between two mountains, I think—unfortunately,

-L. V.

we fell in love. It was a Wednesday and we reminded
each other that the world taught us

-L. V.

not to break promises
so on the drive back, we broke each other instead.

-L. V.

L. V., i found this poem as it blurred past us on a foreign road

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literaryvein

7 months ago

Think about this:
You and Death—

sitting down for afternoon tea
in the garden of my mind, talking
whilst flowers bloomed
and grew redder in the backdrop.

Worms traverse the driveway like lost men in the Sahara.

- L. V.

Detail of "Musician Smoking a Cigarette in the Background of Copenhagen" by Gerda Wegener (Danish, 1886-1940)

During days that You aren’t there, Death becomes lonely.
He sits back in His chair and puts His feet up, takes a cigarette out
from His coat pocket, lights it up to fill the air with His sorrow.
Then, You, in your old suit, reappear out of nowhere,
and all of a sudden, it is summer again.

- L. V.

In my mind,
there exists only two seasons:
summer
and
not summer.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem underneath your nails

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literaryvein

7 months ago

they laughed at the artist
because his pomegranates
looked like onions
they laugh at you
because your sadness
looks like lousy poetry
because your suicide
looks like pomegranates
in a mouldy bathtub

- L. V.

L. V., tell me how to stop writing in the dark

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literaryvein

1 month ago

well, i'm no expert, but apart from fe, i suspect specks of fi too. as i have said, i haven't had much time to ponder on you (you, not your blogs), thus it's a tad bit difficult to say. in any case, what i say doesn't matter, i just wished to know. otherwise i can promise my curiosity will keep wandering and haunt me with every glimpse of yours.

You got it right, apart from one letter. At least, based on the last time I took it. So I don't know, maybe you're right with your speculation. But I also did have one other result prior to the most recent one that was pretty consistent throughout the years.

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now will you tell me yours dear anon also now curious about your blog/s too

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literaryvein

11 months ago

I'm so happy to find your page today. I got goosebumps, wow!

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literaryvein

11 months ago

Girl with Starry Dress and Bouquet (Detail)
by Charles Blackman

July wasn’t a poet
but the rain was here, the daffodils told her.

She picked up a pen
and wrote on the walls and on her body

L. V., i found this poem tucked safely between 2:53 and 2:54 in the morning

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literaryvein

1 month ago

L. V., meet me at the epilogue

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literaryvein

10 months ago

Detail of "Next to Opera Theater, Etude"
by: Petros Malayan, 1954

There’s a street lamp in my neighbourhood that’s broken

not because it doesn’t light the sidewalk at night

but because it does so in the light of day too—

L. V., i found this poem bathing in moonlight

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literaryvein

6 months ago

Tonight, she brushes her teeth
with the razor

- L. V.

Portrait of Adeline Ravoux (detail)
Vincent van Gogh, 1890

washes her mouth with perfume
applies the red with her left hand,

- L. V.

powders her nose with
moonlight.

- L. V.

Tonight, she isn’t just pretty.
Tonight, death makes her beautiful.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem visiting the small town you left years ago

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literaryvein

7 months ago

November Moonlight (Detail)
John Atkinson Grimshaw

November feels like something bad is about to happen

and we're left with the oddest kind of disappointment

L. V., i found this poem dancing with your shadow

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