Mary Huxley Poems

Jailed in my own mind,
Scared to walk forth,
Handcuffed by my own thoughts,
I'm sentenced to infuriation.
...

I have memorized you
like a prayer whispered in a burning room.
You are the ache in my marrow,
the silver thread stitched
...

A single tear slid down my cheek,
clocked in for work, said, "Back next week."
It packed its bags, tiny suitcase, tiny socks
and whispered, "Buddy… life's a lot."
...

To love is to die
A bittersweet death
...

My heart is a ghost in two cities,
haunted by the shape of your name.
In Paris, I seek you in the gray morning mist,
a flâneur wandering streets that feel empty
...