Been a
Small player a
Bit part actor
One of the cast
In an off Broadway play

Been a
Smart *** a
wit less loser
One of the bell
bottomed long hairs

Been a
Lover cast
Aside useless
broken a piece of
worthlessness

Been a
Powerless
Where is
my next meal
Coming from beggar

And I've
Made it here
Where I grasped
saw seen realized
it's never been
About me

So I have
Been a
lifter up a positive
Force in this seemingly
hopeless universe

Since.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you
Heart.

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.

Grab a feather
                                            Open your soul.

Grab some paper
                                         Make it your own.

And a small feather
                                             Shall be a brush,

And a small paper
                                        Your poems' canvas.

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I suppose it's better that way.
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So I wouldn't try to say "Hey"
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A hole grows larger in my heart.
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This is absolutely tearing me apart.
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I'm sustained by the memories I keep.
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And by the dreams that haunt me in my sleep.
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I hope you're doing alright.
User cannot be found.
And that someone is appreciating you, holding you tight.
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