It's two hours away from seeing you
and I'm nervous.

I'm nervous because,
it will be the last chance I'll be with you.

I'm nervous because,
it will be the last chance that I'll feel your arms around me.

I'm nervous because,
i know that later will be our last kiss.

lovely fat free words
strung together randomly
just may mean something

I will hold
my truth dear.
As it will surely
break me.
There is simplicity
here.
In this truth.
-

Speak to me.
There must be truth
hidden amid the dust.
Its scent rises through
the window to my fingertips
resting on the edge.
My heart speaks truth.
It offers patience
in solitude.
My veins smile with
happiness.
-

I clutch at your ankles as you drag me along. I search through the dust kicked up by your feet. My body spreads into the cracks of the floor. I shiver, pressed to the glass, as I cannot pass beyond. There is no warmth in the wind pushing between our bodies. I stand with arms heavy, skin flaking away. An echo builds in my soul, monumental and real, a temple to solitude.

Body hold me.
Move me.
Stand with spirit
burning bright.
Lift my head from the earth.
A sculpture of tears.
A running child, arms reaching.
-

Its been a long time since
I had anything important to say.
Still don’t.
The focus that writing requires
is distant,
fog-like and out of reach.
I feel it misty on my skin sometimes.
I turn my hand around and its spirit
touches me softly, tenderly.
I feel it held up in silence.  
It is brief and then its gone,
or I go, or both,
and then the sun burns bright
and the clock runs fast
forward through the day
like an hourglass where
the ringing in my ears
is the roaring of the sand
through the gap,
and though it is contained,
it brings down with it everything
my mind cannot hold onto….
  
There is no focus.
Mainly guilt,
but I catch a glimpse  
once in a while in the mist,

and when the mist is on my skin
there is no roaring through the gap

rather drifting, slow,
methodical as intended…..

Just not very often