She is not gone, you know
She can't be
She's too selfish to fully let go
She's too good at justifying her hidden delicacies

She can still hear you
Still feel you
Still knows what you're thinking
When you're thinking it
Sometimes she uses her magic to make it so
Though she's too protective to ever let anyone else know

She manipulates the wind
Makes it carry her secrets up to the stars
So they twinkle with her intentions
Until she is a random thought stealing into your brain
Your heart
Your sleeping soul
Your aching bones

You know...
Those parts she claimed
When you so willingly signed them over to her
As her name brushed over your lips
In an exhale of relief
She kept those

She never intended to give them back
That was in the fine print of the contract
When you began the conversation
You're hers
You always will be

You could be with a hundred others
And still...
Those secrets
That touch
That quiet
That...

It's hers
It will always be hers
She's too selfish to let it go
And she's far too protective of her delicacies

The pen that fell spilled my words onto the carpet
I watched them seep into the threads
Painting a distorted picture
Blots of ink made Warshak tests
Out of my pretty phrases
My
     rhymes
               My  
                  deeper
                            meaning
                                         lines

Just shapes of black across the unforgiving selfish floor
Evil pen that divulged my secrets
Hiding love language and spells into careless synthetic blend fibers

Perhaps it was jealous that its magic only worked in my hands
When my fingers stroked its shaft
Until it exploded with graceful,
                                               powerful,
                                                       unforgiving,
                                                                descriptive,
                                                                         colorful,
                                                                             life giving,
                                                                                   life taking,
                                                                                        incantations

******* pen that stole my voice
The one that those without ears can hear
My silent screaming acquaintances
How grateful I was that you were my safe space to speak
Our secret languages
That give color and life to the world
We who are unafraid to feel

But that ******* pen silenced me.
For years I've been quiet
Watching conversations
                           words...
                               letters....
                                     songs....

But you know what?  
**** that pen

Coffee black, is like bitter water
Too quick
Too much hot liquid
No mystery to it

I like my coffee with cream
Powdered cream that adds the smallest bit of thickness
To the dark water
Followed by a shot of flavor
Flavor that unfolds with warm beauty when it
Flows over your tongue

As though the flavor will also enhance the next words
To leave your lips
Words kissed with sweetness and warmth
A soothing coat to quiet any bitterness

You know you have enough cream in my coffee
When it matches the color of his skin
Caramelly, earthen, warm, silken...
Smooth like the swirls of the spoon as you stir
Sweet like his warm lips sweeping over mine
Warmth that flows over the tongue
Glides down the throat
Enveloping the sleeping parts and kissing them awake

I love cream in my coffee in the mornings.

Don't add kindle to the fire
She's sleeping right now
Her sleep is calm and safe

Her fire, when lit,
It burns too bright
It calls the spirits to dance
The soul to enliven
Her flame is gentle kisses
To all the deepest darkest parts

See her quiet and calm
She is just a candle
A gentle glow in the dark room

Don't add kindle to her fire
Her burn is that of life
Life that seethes into your veins
Veins that had been hardened by life
Her fire is fresh vitae

Her flame burns the old
Demands the new
Makes all around her a Phoenix
Live! She demands it!

But, you always did like to play with fire...

Can you hear them?
An entire language
Words pounding at the dam
Throwing themselves against the solid walls
Desperate to break it down
Soon they'll overflow

Soon all the words that haven't been said
They'll come flooding out
Washing over everything that has and hasn't been
Years of thoughts all rushing

But that doesn't mean they'll be heard
There will be hidden messages
Secrets that aren't meant for working ears
Or seeing eyes
They'll break through in codes
Codes that only whisper
Letters that jumble and misshape
With funny accents and curves
And ink that disappears

Can you hear them?
The poetry
The stories
All the letters threatening to
Flood through their silent prison
They're going to break down the walls
They're going to overflow
They're going to sing
To write
And then disappear

Wake up little bird
The sun is shining
Wake up little bird
I have food for your belly
Wake up little bird
Your song is missing
Wake up little bird
Your cage is too quiet

Little bird,
Are you there?
Little bird,
Have you lost your song?
Little bird,
Little bird?

Don't leave me in this silence.