11.02.17

At least I mean what I say when I write.
You don’t write; you speak.
You speak rather eloquently,
But what does that mean
Since you don’t seem to mean what
You say?
I hold onto your words
That aren’t on pages
Until my pen makes each one eternal that night.
I linger and rest in the eloquence,
But we both know I shouldn’t.
For I am someone who likes words,
And you just talk so damn well.
Maybe you’re afraid you can’t interpolate your words on paper.
However, you can do that with the ones you’ve spoken;
I shouldn’t have been surprised when you did.

-After all, your spoken words were written by me.

10.29.17

Tell me about the comet that destroyed you:
the one you swore was a shooting star
until it came crashing, hauling towards
the inner workings of your castle:
towards your mind.
Tell me about the days you laughed at
the otters and they laughed right back at you.
Tell me about the months that seemed like minutes
because that’s how hard you loved her.
Tell me.
Not because I’m asking-
but because you want me to know you
as much as I want to know you.

-I have comets, otters, and minutes too.

10.04.17

We learn and endure
Expose and secure
What we want to be known yet silenced.
We invite and allure
No behavior demure
But pretend we are coy and quiet.
Can you not speak,
Will I not seek
Something that makes sense in the end?
With no intention to defend
nor to amend
Maybe it won’t make sense in the

 

 

2.05.17

1 year of disconnection;
The end was the beginning of something:
A color I had never seen before.
How could I describe a new color
That has no name and does not
Have a single resemblance to another?
Treasured were you the nights you found rest
In the comfort of my uneasy mind.
But listen to me now,
My mind is clear.
Sure, I have swayed, whirled, wondered, and drifted
Through
One,
Two,
Or fifteen short bursts of recollection.
You know that;
I do not wish that you didn’t.
I do wish that you knew what I have accomplished,
Endured,
Created,
Felt,
Experienced,
Grasped,
Seen,
Throughout the entirety of this year.

There are thousands of words I could piece together to express who I have become without you. There are hundreds of words that could exhibit how I feel on my own, but one word remains to stand just a little higher than the others-
Relief.

-Find your color if you haven’t.