Dripping and Empty Space

By Noée Spiegel

Dripping

I stare right through the glass
Right through it’s layers of transparence and it’s nuance of azure
Lips ever so plump, filled to the brim with senseless idioms
A glass so full it’s contents drip over it’s edge
Pathetically one might say
Brave another may reply
The faucet’s incessantly trickling, chunks of rust flowing through its current
Embraced so sweetly in an earnestness only summer can breed
Lips that have whispered devotion in a quiet prayer
To ears that never did more than relish
In the honey poured by my solstitial diction
Lips who’s cardinal attire is long gone
Fluttering to another’s beat that I’ve grown deafened to
They now lay bare in the blankness of winter
Split from the frigid adjourn 
Amidst precipices that never seem to replenish
Lips that still rouse at dawn echoing the ghost of a phrase
Pondering where you’ve gone 
Apprehensive of the day the drip will cease 

Empty Space

The day I met you
Was the day my life changed
A sure warmth upon my shoulder
As though the breeze itself
Tugged my hand ever closer to yours
And yet when you died
I remained standing
My ligaments torn
My skin scarred
It’s hard to forgive a soul who promised hers to another
At some point, selfishness must’ve consumed us both
Gnawing at our heart
Rotting hers to worms and soil
But how I pray at night
That the voices in my mind belong to her
How I plead to the gleams of moonlight
Dutifully casting slivers of her light to the panel of wood beneath my feet
For her to haunt me
Just as long as she remains
And yet I am the one begging below her
For the very same selfishness that tore us to shreds
Crumbled sheets that can no longer be straightened
Wishing for you to live
But only by my side
Consciousness clouded because how
How could I inhale a breath that never would meet yours again
But as I betrayed, as dishonesty made love to my tongue,
As I still brandish love for the birth of excuses
I understood at some point down the road
That my soul constitutes of yours
Yet as I stared at a reflection so void of your features
Of your eyes
And of your lips,
Realization set in
A dark cloud over the glorious moors
I’d collected any piece of you that I could hold with both hands full
Though some had been the ones that had ripped you away from me
I guess that any bit
Any fragment of you
Remains an honor for me to treasure
And though I still hold pieces of you
The whole is not greater than the sum of its parts
As it remains a simple reminder
That I am here and you are not
A constant reminder of the space left empty
I can only hope that the day I too leave,
I’ll feel more complete

Noée Spiegel is a young author from Montreal, Canada. She is currently pursuing a law degree but has always had a passion for writing in both French and English. She loves all kinds of writing but her favourite is poems about love, as cheesy as it may sound. She’s been featured as a winner for the McEntyre writing contest at the young age of eleven years old and her writing has grown a lot since. She’s ghost written some articles that have been found in Forbes Magazine as well as the LA Times