“I don’t...”
She blinks,
“I don’t.”
And suddenly,
She doesn’t.
She scrambles,
Face blank,
Body still,
For something
Known.
She reaches
Into the dark,
Her hand
Probing
For something
To clutch
And reaching
Too far,
She topples.
“I didn’t,”
She says,
“Know what the end
Could feel like”

She gasps
And clutches
Her chest
Just above, between
*******,
And her face
Splits.
Giggles,
Rippling
From core
To tips,
Bursting
Open
And through,
To yelps,
Bubbling
Rises and Falls,
Pushing
Through breath,
To wheezes
Marked
With squeaking
Pleas.
They remember
This later
When she
Is angry
And mean.

I watch
The words
Dance
Full grown,
Well mannered
From your lips,
And the threads
They call
To existence
Weave
Perfectly
Together
A start,
An arc,
A seamless
Resolution
Where worlds
Spin
With sense.
And I am
Lonely
Shrouded
In your tapestry
Clinging to my ******
Beneath.

I see
Your fear
So clearly,
Dripping from
Tips to type,
Like the sweat
From atop
Your snarl.
I hear
Your taps
Brand it
As virtue,
Justice,
As humor,
Or sense,
But your labels
Peel and curl
At edges,
And I
Recognize
The fearful
Bits
Beneath.
"Shhh, love,"
I want to say,
Reaching out,
"No more."
But my hand
Still stings,
So today -
I block the comments.

The more
You spend,
The more
You win.
But
Not
Quite.

It’s something
About,
Within,
Around,
Your smile
That stops
My breath
My blood
And holds
Me hostage to
My memories
Of your words-
Cinching
Strong
Cords,
Pinching
Soft
Skin,
Heavy
Between *******
For leverage.
And I am still.
Still and
Still angry.
This time,
I use my hands
To tell you
“No.”

Your words
Flow over
Gravel,
Tumbling
With purpose
And precision,
And I see
In the bend
Of your hips
The hurt
And hope
From which
They spring.
I should have known
That hearing your voice
Would draw my heart
To yours.