You'll Never Die

Sat 2nd March, 2013 @ 10:37am by geddykay

You'll Never Die:

by `KathrynODriscoll

They say that if a writer falls in love with you then you never really die.

Instead your body is laid out in its funerial shrouds and moulds are made. Soft impressions of you to be pressed onto the blank faces of future loves.

Every time I write of taking comfort in a safe place in a storm, it will be your forearm. Every half-made smile will be on your lips, and every touch will be constructed from the residue beneath your fingernails.

When I metaphise of trees’ blood, the leaves that give the energy so that a willow can provide shade for those in need, it will be your blood, it will be your light drenched kisses.

Every time I write of a man kissing the crown of a woman’s head to relieve her pain, I will use your liver. It will filter out poisons and allow love to be pure again. For every route, your fingertips will guide me. They will be the map of the city in my mind.

I will borrow your parts, unasked, as my templates of perfection.

Because when a writer falls in love with you, you never really die.



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