the last time you were here.
you brought a bar of soap with you
that you left before you walked away.
it provides a fragrant lather.
rinsing off, swirling around before being rinsed
down the drain.
although not forever, even bars of soap
have a shelf life.
it's expectancy dwindling with every use.
although you're not here, the bar of soap
you left behind is.
the question of masculine is not up for debate.
just as fleeting as every shower is.
i am not at all ashamed to say that it left
my skin feeling smoother.
the bar of soap gets thinner and thinner.
tossing in turning, scrubbing itself against my wash rag.
the doubt of you coming back is more evident.
the thinner this bar of soap gets.
if nothing else.
you can't say that I didn't think about you

I've never been very good at listening.
I imagine that I resonate with a piece of you that reminds me of the same piece of me.
When I come face to face with this piece.
I realize that not everything can be changed.
That's what makes it important.
Otherwise the urge to speak would never come.
Realizing this occurrence,
It becomes familar.
Not once does fear strike.
All in all there's no interruption.
The well being of ourselves.
The very things that no matter what, we tend to recognize.
No matter the grief.
And like that very thing I become a child.
Not realizing the meaning of being alive.
Within these moments I turn to you for guidance.
I look up and realize a stubbornness.

I admit.
I've never been good at listening.
Although I vocalize the feeling.
We go through extreme measures when the appearance isn't quite right.
In light of innocence I am struck time and time again.
The lashings of what I'll always believe.
It becomes excessive.
Coming into contact with this same piece of me that I have found in you.
That no matter the argument.
We understand that there is an accord that cannot be ignored.
We live in a state where this paradox becomes conscious.
Separating what is right, as well as wrong.
At times we may disagree, proving in these times that it takes growth to be heard.
And I have heard you this whole time.
This piece of me that has fallen in love with every piece of you.
Both stubborn and impatient