I write so many silent poems about you
The words swirl and mix and create their own life
As quick as they come, they leave also
To make room for the next line
The next paragraph
Of a kiss or a whispered word
A tear welling up or freely falling
Fingertips on my back, water droplets running down to the floor with gravity
The words feel like a river, breathing in
Flowing down and around the bend
Gallons of water and pages of thoughts
Feelings rushing in warm and swift and pooling
Before they rush to the next basin
And on and on and on and on
You can never stand in the same river twice
And I can never remember the exact words I want to write about you
Because I just live in them in that moment
They pool around me. Your fingertips like little water droplets on my back
Running down with gravity
And this is a very disjunct poem because after-the-fact I just can’t pull the exact words I felt
Because you can never stand in the same river twice.
May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 5:59 PM UTC
I write so many silent poems about you
The words swirl and mix and create their own life
As quick as they come, they leave also
To make room for the next line
The next paragraph
Of a kiss or a whispered word
A tear welling up or freely falling
Fingertips on my back, water droplets running down to the floor with gravity
The words feel like a river, breathing in
Flowing down and around the bend
Gallons of water and pages of thoughts
Feelings rushing in warm and swift and pooling
Before they rush to the next basin
And on and on and on and on
You can never stand in the same river twice
And I can never remember the exact words I want to write about you
Because I just live in them in that moment
They pool around me. Your fingertips like little water droplets on my back
Running down with gravity
And this is a very disjunct poem because after-the-fact I just can’t pull the exact words I felt
Because you can never stand in the same river twice.
