gazing upon the empty words
breathes life as once she read
words on a page of nothingness
found love there in its stead
to know his soul as he doth hers
love never accepts defeat
though distance mars the loving hearts
for never the twain shall meet
If you are an aging book tossed on an empty shelf
Left to dust,
I will be the librarian who remembers you.
Even in my graying days and wrinkles,
I will find you within the musty bindings
Upon the shelves.
I will pluck you off,
Bypassing all of the others
That try and grab me as I walk
The narrow aisles.
I will push them back into their place
For you are the only one I have eyes on.
I will find you and blow the dust
Off your shoulders.
I will run my fingers over you,
Feeling your cover, your back, your spine
Before opening you and sifting through your pages,
Reading your story and discovering your scars
Where the corners have been folded over.
But I will love you long before
I ever open your cover and begin to read.
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Like in the dead of night when I put one leg out into the brisk air because combined with your body heat,
The blanket is just too warm.
I feel exposed but hidden all the same.
Or when I push one sleeve up my arm, but keep the other hidden beneath the cloth because the evidence would smack you too hard in the face.
I don’t want you to feel the pain that I’ve kept hidden.
I feel shielded, but barely; behind a veil that is trying to reveal the hurt I’m sheltering because you were just too naïve to believe I’d sank that low.
The ocean pulls the anchor from the ship and gravity helps.
I can’t see the bottom, but I know I’m close.
in every moment of despair,
it always happens
every time I love to fear —
fear to love.
But like the shores
wanting to reach the skylines,
I would always be wanting
to bind your lips to mine.
No one falls in love by chance,
it’s by choice;
but I chose to let go
to avoid being hurt.
I tried to hide
and bury my feelings
whenever you are near —
but my heart always fails,
for trying not to love you
only makes me love you more.
He was the kind of man who
Rarely said, “I love you” first.
Hearing him say those three
Magic little words before I did
Always caught me off guard,
Like a child digging in the
Cookie jar and getting caught
Red handed by his mother.
I smile like the child does
When he’s finally allowed
A cookie for dessert.
The love we shared
Was like a family
Before it had even began.
I am the child that grins
Every time I’m allowed a cookie
And he is the mother that
Always gives in to my cravings.
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I let my nails grow long
And the polish fade and chip away.
I did not cut them or file them down.
I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.
Not until you returned.
But in time, they snagged on clothes.
They became jagged from breaking.
I bit them until
I could not deal with them any longer.
So I did what I said I wouldn’t.
I cut my nails and
I painted them again.
I started over.
Three years have gone by.
A little over one thousand days
And it’s been thirty-six months.
I don’t know why I’m still counting
Each dawn that passes by.
I don't know why you haven’t called
To tell me that you miss me
And that you want me back.
But I do know that slowly the nights add up
And soon it will be forty-eight months
One thousand four hundred sixty days.
It’ll be four years
And I will still be wondering why
We haven’t spoken.
Your fingers sift through my hair
Like wind drifts through a meadow.
You speak like the sparrow calls in the distance
And your touch is soft as a butterfly wing.
You smell sweet like after the rain
But it is your breaths that take mine away.