slowly
he plagued her thoughts less and less
the painful process
of recovery
of finding her breath again
from a love that made her feel less than she was
her thoughts of him
fewer and farther between with every sun
became muted
irrelevant to her life
sore still
and a little bit achy
but standing up
with shaky legs
and a healing heart
falling in love with herself
and her God
even more

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.

the stars
otherworldly and untouchable to i
brought me to feel insignificant and far
from worthy enough to look at the sky
and yet
i feel also chosen by
those beautiful unknowns to me they lie
they evade my gaze
staying only peripherally mine
twinkling, flickering, reminiscent of a child
innocent, lovely, and wild
shadows of those jewels is all i see
of the distant stars avoiding me