Julie Hart

Under mountains of coal and ash two, cold, porcelain figurines withstand the years, as they grind away slowly their lines and composition turning to dust. I was the culprit, tearing down the house you built, now a stranger to the pillars of your sunlight laughter Embarrassed I bow with only a huge gap I created...lifeless with no interiors… only regret. I knew you when there was only a small one bedroom apartment…no monuments to your name…when you were nervous and alone. I loved you with my blinded heart, at risk with too many intimate scars… and now with memories and no words ever spoken. © Julia Heckman 2011