touching what is seen,
seeing what is touched:
i cannot see you.
you cannot touch me.

my love.

I soften with
the rain

I pour my suffering out
into my hand,
over your side,
so as not to
drown you.
We flow together,
we weep together,
we follow each other;
we oscillate between varying dimensions.
It is a state of languid frenzy.

You trap me; you keep me; you hurt me.
You are strong.
I hold you; I cling to you; I caress you.
I try to be gentle.
And the feeling
is divine:
the feeling of
your heart beating
alongside mine.

i wanted
you
to
love me
in
hard
salty waves
without
end

i felt you crash on top of me

and you
were
restless
like
the
tide
of the
warm ocean

this man by my side,
his love pinned me down.
his love runs through me.

but it's another face
i see, i caress
when i lay down
and my sheets are bare with his absence.
i don't know why.

i don't know why,
but my man on the side,
when his fingers run across me,
my whole world is his
beads of sweat dripping on my chest,
and falling down my side.

it lasts just a moment,
i don't know why.

if you see him, tell him.
tell him i miss him.
tell him i forgive him.

tell him to let his guilt dissipate,
like the smoke from his cigarette;
tell him he knows
he can't just let it churn indefinitely there,
in his lungs.
tell him to exhale.

tell him i love him.
he knows, but tell him;
he needs reminding.

and tell him it's a feeling that
has never left me: not once,
not for a moment,
from then, when we first broke bread,
to now, when we shatter each other's
stares across the room full of people.

tell him our love was a miracle
that gave light to my soul,
confirming its once elusive vitality.

tell him how true it all was,
in spite of and yet because of everything:
the pain,
the laughter,
the ramblings,
the loneliness,
and the chins held high.