I walked along the boardwalk
and I wondered if it had
been the exact day that
I arrived, one year earlier,
on that very spot.
I had never been back.
My heart was sad, but it was
carried by my hands
and they were gentle.
I felt as if I placed my heart
on a pile of grapes.
They stayed plump
beneath it and supported
the weight of my sadness.
I didn’t climb out of the well
using grape vines.
I just sat in the bottom,
I felt disjointed
and I could only share my
metaphor, it was holding me
back from the truth
but I didn’t call it the truth.
I just stayed there–
I looked at the stars.
Dreamt of mermaids and
jewel thieves, dreamt of the
end of time,
and of sad days when
you weren’t in the picture
and I drowned in tears.
But I meant instead to write
only of the grapes
holding my heart.