The cutting out of me

  The cutting out of me.

  So i stared into her eyes this morning -
  face so white and anaemic, after bloodloss and stale air,
  there was her stare.
  Like a lonely animal trapsing back after a stillbirth of solitude and
  times - when her tail was long enough to replace a scream
  and as a dream
  I remembered the cutting out of me.

  How the waters broke as my heart got handed back to me like a house and my layers began to
  swim.
  It had existed before but not like this, not as a house which
  I lived in!
  Not as a place where every shelf sat swimming on a rib
  or a stomach, or any place that hid,
  before i found it today and it led me to another way
  where he never saw my pain or the hurt but handed it over
  like a letter to read back to myself.

  Just the cutting out of me
  with every floor & corridor
  streaming with water.
  An empty house with every colour in black and the darkest blue of the lonely traveller,
  The weeping of cosmic blood
  in the arms of a man that should but never would
  protect those tears running to a flood.