They say He
is in the stillness. The calm
after the storm, the quiet
before the noise, any tiny
moments of rest scattered
throughout the day. Maybe He
is even here, right now
residing in the cool cessation,
calm silence, living where
no words will thrive, the deafening noiselessness
pressing down on me- maybe
I should be comforted that
in the absence of you, He
has come to fill the spaces
our words have left behind. Darling,
I must apologize yet again
for my consistent inability to perceive
the divine. Please, understand
when I try and tell you, here,
I see only emptiness.

Darling,
I honestly believe that once you tear everything down
what you rebuild can be stronger than ever. When we demolish everything
down to the very foundations
you're forced to notice the flaws from last time. And you did notice, you did know
better than I did
that though I have no practice at anything
other than giving up and walking away, I am capable of rebuilding. That knowledge, it seems, is only the latest in you proving me wrong, showing me
I'm better than I think, letting me know in the best way possible, exactly how
I have underestimated you. Darling,
I could go on, but I think
I need to thank you for not listening
to my urging you
my urging the world
my urging myself- thank you
for not giving up on me.

Darling, I'm
leaving the eggshells right
where they are.

A little more
(when have you known me

to not be self-destructive?)

Darling, when I try
and write to you, all format
flies from my grasp. Haiku and ten
always too little, and prose
I would have to fill with beauty-
words I do not have to describe us
anymore. You see, unlike the family tradition, I was
never a good Scrabble player. Always
only 100 tiles and short, obscure
words never enough to tell a
story that should be rich, not sparsely
populated with only 1 Z, or
2 Ys or 2 Cs. With you I feel
I am playing scrabble with my words. As always,
my darling, (with) you I am losing.

Darling,
this is how entropy increases. It's not in the loudness or the noise, it's not in the moments after when we're all shell-shocked and confused, no, because this world will not end in a bang. Entropy increases is such a fundamental concept, and yet
I had hoped and prayed and begged and bargained and pleaded and screamed and whispered and
until the air ran out of my lungs and my only words left were
not here not here not here not
here, darling, this, is how entropy increases. When I am too tired and you, you are too busy. We will not fall apart in glory, love, we will not burn out, this thing we call we will just
fade
away, until all that is left is the faintest glimmer of stardust coating my cheeks and clinging to what once was wet. We are drifting, heart, softly
and the space between where our gazes fall short is the void
that swallows our words. This
that you are reading is the only thing I have managed to rescue, fish out, drag through layers of fear and hesitence and doubt by sheer need to tell you something. You know, we are
celestial beings, stars, constellations, but even the glorious fades and only leaves behind the faintest of imprints on my eyelids, so I think I can almost just remember you but not quite because entropy has turned my memory
a rabbit-warren of twisting confusion and holey nostalgia oh love I'm sorry this
was never the plan you
were the sun and I was a star and we will not go out with a bang, darling, with the milky-way of our star-brains smeared across the space-wall we were not destined for such things
we were not destined for anything
maybe that is why the only thing
is to go out not with a bang, but my whimper.