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 Nov 2014 T Neva Fairchild
Emmy
I want to softly whisper
incomplete poems
on your collar bones
that don't rhyme with anything
but your heavy breathing.

I want to bury my face
in the curves of your neck
because you smell like the winter clouds
and I've been gazing at the sky
since you left.
I am fascinated with language
with the architecture of words
the way they shift their shape
how a single switch can swing a tone

I am obsessed with possibilities
and those within language are bountiful
this all leads back to my reservoir
the place to which these words flow

that of course is my brain
a non-consenting center of my musings
tasked with taking on
my desires that lie within

the alphabet shocks and disturbs me
26 letters should not be all we need
to script our thoughts
because let it be known

I have searched


rolled every rock in my mind




and I am yet to find any iteration of those 26 letters







that properly describes the feeling of waking up next to you








again
I have my father's mind:
logical, quick-witted, carefree,
always searching for sublime meaning
in words and people
over a third cup of tea.

and my mother's heart;
soft, selfless to a fault, empathetic
searching for ways to attain happiness
for everyone but themselves;
ultimately alone.

Within me,
*they are still together.

— The End —