The beautiful moment

A poem about finding the beauty and trying to hold onto the positive after a broken heart.
Published on Spillwords 2016

What’s your favourite moment?
The question is often posed,
A recent, beautiful moment,
With hopes and hearts deposed.
And in an instant I can see it,
Feel your body, smell your skin,
Because the beautiful favourite moment,
Is when I end and you begin.

I can still feel my arms around you,
Hear the song as the needle coasts,
The melody, the pedantic cracklings,
The record player contains these Ghosts.

Ghosts of an idiosyncratic rhythm,
Of our tenderness and our space,
But the syncopation echoes through me,
And I can feel your heart’s embrace.

The room in which we stood,
As I swayed you in my arms,
I felt you lean back into my embrace,
And I believed it could do no harm.
As we stood in silence, swaying,
I kissed your neck and your shoulders, strong,
Forgive me in my foolishness,
It was only with you where I’d belong.

Before you I was distant,
Loss; the strongest emotion I knew,
With you I felt a presence,
I had never loved ’till you.
In that moment my heart melted,
In that moment I was at peace.
In your arms I finally understood,
I could love and could be free.

What’s your favourite moment?
The question is often posed,
Mine is a record playing,
And you in my arms, held close.
When the tears are dry, loss laid to rest,
And as the image fades from view,
I know no matter how you broke my heart,

My beautiful moment… is still you.

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