I am typing out her love, her life, her worries, her fears.
(As I move, across the board, typing. I hear her.)
Her clouds have formed. Covering. Smothering.
(Her breath feels weak.)
To strengthen is to break, to weaken is to fall.
(Skies are grey & mist surrounds.)
The curtains, open. No light. Butterflies glisten.
(A ray of light appears across the horizon.)
It calls to her. She cannot hear. It pushes against her skin.
(Insistent, for her to hear. Words account for little.)
Voices lost and heard. Spaces form. I see her.
(I wish I could feel her close to me again.)
I sense a distance which cannot be articulated.
(When nothing feels wrong, and yet things don’t feel right.)
In my mind I embrace her. Hold her. Her heart pulsates.
(In threes. I remember. I count.)
One.
Two.
Three.
Over.
One.
Two.
Three.
The repetition is soothing.
Calming.
Surrounding embrace.
I remember.
Yes, I remember.
© Sia Jane
as I have fabulous writers block, this is from the archives when I wrote sporadic "poetry" if that is what I can call it.