When silence hurts
There is nothing like a knife
To cut the tension
If the wire is thick
Then, will we see it through thick and thin
As I keep cutting the excess strands of awkwardness
With my biting humor
I leave some scars on your heart
Unintentional
But, this silence pains me
Because it isn't the same silence
We had years ago
When we first met.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

dappled light
falling
like rain
through paper leaves
and lazy rivers
of rushing dreams.

illuminating
the cold, grasping hands
of those below.
we wanted to believe
that they were asleep
but they never were.