Sunday, August 25, 2013


I write and erase and write and erase and write
Syllables, incoherent with afflictions, float around mid-air
I intend to reach out, and I'm left with this gaping silence, distance(?)
That overwhelms, has me taking deep breaths
But where's the ease?
If only I could paint for you, with light finger strokes
And listen to your heartbeat's intensity
If only I could take my fill for now and then later
If only
If only I could strum a melody for two
For me and you
Trace my lips in sensitive places
Leave my signature
And a note, too

But what foolishness!
My heavy sighs lament such thoughtlessness
At the emptiness of knocking on locked doors,
Of peering in private windows
Like a grief-stricken soul
Tired, I lean against the walls
Surrounding my own bruised heart
Composing unsent notes
And swallowing in sentiments
Of exaggerated hopefulness

May 22, 2013

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