I lie Skin to skin Me to you Between sheets Between states Between stories Of what’s right And what’s left With covers Peeled Back. I lie Still As alarms scream As you whimper As the dream fades Into ends And means That encapsulate Life Into easy-to-swallow Objectives. I lie Quiet, Committing To memory What it’s like To feel your love In heels Tucked in toes, In fingers Tangled in hair. I lie Because, If I’m telling the truth, I’m waiting to discover This was our last.
It's unsettling (Fundamentally) When the thing You yearn for From the one Who once Yearned for you Just Isn't. Unsettling to keep wanting Unsettling to stop. Unsettling to settle. But then - Someone has got to run the dog before 10.
I guess I imagined things Differently. That our Love Wouldn't flow Down the path I'd worn bare When I was too young To know I was a person. I must have imagined a person Before I was she And maybe while And maybe now that I seem to have forgotten The kinds of things That made up My edges That fit so well With yours.
I watched you, Today, Hesitate, While you watched them From the easy edges. And I remembered What it's like To just be And to be Just out of reach And to notice No one Is reaching. I watched you watch Today. And notice. And hesitate. But when I reached, You were gone.
Some days, I feel lonely In the dark, In the quiet, Seeking To create A moment Or two Of just being By redoing And redoing With Intention. Other days, Though - Other days, Everyone I’ve ever loved Or hurt Or been seen by Shows up In the alleys Between Being And doing And I Recognize Us.
“My dear,” I start. But where From here? I search For magic words Unspoken, The ones With the power To guide him home. And with the power To remind you it’s his. But the “come home” words Are worn and weak From use. Like I am worn and weak And used To the way things have become. And even alone With my pencil I fall into silence.
He watches her, Jaw set, As her eyes plead The case her lips Can’t speak. “No,” His eyes respond. And, “not again,” From his clenched jaw. And “no... god please, no,” From his tired shoulders. And the dog barks, And the kid calls, And she moves as he walks past. “I’m not leaving,” She whispers, With confidence, To her angry cat, “And sometimes that scares me.”