~

I can not cry
for that would only add
to the rain falling
in my heart,
forming puddles
in the emptiness,
filling voids
with misty sadness,
drowning my dreams
in the never ending downpour
of missing you
that is already
*overflowing

It is my theory
that we are all connected.
From the thread around your finger
to the ribbon on her wrist
and the rope tightened on my neck.
Every action has a consequence,
because when you pull on the string;
*something unravels.

I want just as much poetry I write about you
written about me

-H.R.

the haze of summer hung in the air
blurring the lines between our bodies
buried in the white sheets
on the three-season patio day bed
where i learned how
your body felt when i moved my hand across the light skin of your torso
and no matter how warm the temperatures got
i'd still wrap my arms tight around you
like you were a towel in need of wringing

we shared iced tea
siting in the chaise lounges
the sun setting a crimson outside our window
you told me of the time you landed yourself out on the street
strumming your guitar for money
until you finally found your footing
when i came and took you in
which is where we found ourselves on this porch into the early hours
summer haze billowing the curtains as a breeze rolls in
the night the only illumination in your eyes

you revealed to me that you were in love with me
the idea of what i had become to you
and how you love the sound of my voice at two in the morning
scratching the surface of your rough facade
breaking into something that was seemingly impenetrable

you meant the world
to someone so little and unimportant
that as the fall came and went
and winter set in
your imprint on this bed still lingers
even though your feet left my threshold
too many days ago