i wanted you to love me on purpose.

I polish mirrors

My story is the collision of what I say
with what you hear or
something careless
That I’m here for

just a sentence
Poorly wrapped
A bow untied
    Unzipped
          Unstacked

All fallen rose petals
Under-watered
wilted pages
Roots of wounded
Periphrasis

Antlers shed
Their velvet read
With some words flown
from lips and bone
much is left      unsaid

Forensics show my story
     s-stumbled
Witnesses heard three shots fired
My story channels
Along sidewalk seams
It seems my time expired

That I was right handed
makes my writing
average
marginalized
a ricochet of plans gone awry
Life stays two paces
ahead of mine

Still this story missed it’s stop
Back to the pages of *your story again
when do I drop my polishing cloth
where does this sentence end?

soak with me the summer heat
dripping from branches
dangling over the street
tell me all your secrets
every one you keep
you'll remain a mystery,
even to me.

I can feel you in my palm
holding on to your hand
connecting lines, drawing dots
seeing more than I'd like to say we are

I can feel you in my chest
my arms laid to rest
across my eyes, above my heart
lying further away than I'd like to say we are

I can feel you in my mind
writing stories left untold
pens flowing, lead scratching
asking for more than I'd like to say we are

I can feel you in my world
together intertwined
steps and leaps, floating faith  
building more than I'd like to say we are

Through all this wonder I can feel you finally
we're falling as one
you and me, blindly free
and I'd like to say we are

Closeness.*

Why must I retreat when I should be putting up a fight?
Always flight
Doesn't my body know the **** difference between danger and certain death?