A poem falls short; I'd like, instead
to draw a single line from me to you
and watch it curl into a word
so beautiful it's still unsaid –
or press paper to the window pane
so that the day might saturate
a note that brightly warms your hands,
spills birdsong from imagined trees
and buzzes like fat bumblebees,
but I am bound by language, love; I can't.

When
    did I become an acquaintance, an object you pushed to the side, only used when necessary?

When
    was I not the first person you texted with news, not the first person you would say hi to in the morning, the first person on your mind?

When
    did you cut me off with rainbow bruises and lightning scars, and the thunder of your footsteps left me alone?

When
    did you create that perfect storm, that hurricane, that took me away, so now I don’t even know you anymore and I don’t even know what I would say to you now?

When
    did you stop loving me and

Why?

Use it!
Not to give you what you want,
but free another heart from pain.

Use it!
As an act of selfless blessing of
appreciation only you can transmit.

Use it!
As a reminder to others of how much they are valued,
some of us have been waiting for a long, long time to hear it.

Use it!
With the sincerity of heart,

Turn it!
Into a selfless Offering!

Equations
in the sand

Laid out
and toweling off

Curvatures to
algebraic form

They define her lines
shape her axis

My island of
expectation

Amid summer's long
subterfuge

Words said in silence say a lot,
Words said out of spite causes wounds,
Words said and unheard are dead.
18/9/2020