Unfinished Poem

 

You are silver lines

Baited breath drawn back and forth across time

You are an unfinished poem

Left with words still writ upon the stars

 

There are some forms of love that feel like a form of madness.  Contagious I breathe and feel him not there, afraid to breathe out lest others catch this thing I have.  Don’t have.

 

I was doing better with this madness.  Silence, simple silence.  No voice no word, a diet that atrophied the line down to a trickle and convinced me, somehow, it would be alright.  But one short line, one message, one talk and one more I love you and I spiral back out again into this thing called need, called pain, called desire and hope.

 

I watch words

Twinkling stars and seas between us

I watch words

And realize you’re not there

 

We’re both so fucked, time to heal, time to set it straight, time to love myself, love yourself, breathe.  Untangle lines, come clean again to one another or at least to ourselves.  I convince myself if I never see you, never hold you, never smell you again it will be alright.  Then you talk to me… and it’s not alright.

 

I feel you in my stomach, in my heart.  I can feel your heat against the back of my neck.  I can feel you standing in my spine.  Contracts released, space made clean… do I still hold on, or is that you.  The words we have said tell me its both.

 

It’ll just be a few years, right?  It’ll just be next lifetime, right?  It’ll… never be certain whether I am dancing in madness, or in your arms- or whether these are one and the same.

 

You are silver lines

Baited breath drawn back and forth across time

You are an unfinished poem

Left with words still writ upon the stars