heaviness of
talk–
drags me into rooms
i care not
visit
to squander
hours
on words that
matter
not.
abstract
i offered you
flowers
on the tip of
a vow,
then lay them at
your feet
in the hopes
they’d take root.
sorrow takes
a bow
so dear griever
can breathe
in fresh night
which carries upon it
the desire to heal
beyond.
supple hand on a
shoulder
unsettles the
mourner
wishing he felt comfort
by touch
in these moments
where rawness
reigns.
love starts with one
heartbeat
‘gainst a cage that
rattles and
splits,
till out fly the
doves
from a cold,
lifeless
pit.
on the stairway
to no end,
i take a breather then
begin again,
each rung closer
to nowhere,
not even aware of
what landed
me there.
i’ve softened
little
since the
news
you left before
your time,
but have settled
into the new
“normal“
and sense you
within me
now.
taking separate
trains
in separate
ways
to meet again
next june,
and ill be ticking
off the
days
like you’ll be
with me
soon.
tempting as
it may
be
to take your
hand
i’ll leave it
by your
side,
to share it
with
whomever you
wish
while i
stand aside.
how comfortable
we aged
in our ignorance
of each
other
wondering
why
in all that
time
we never did grow
closer.
hands in the garden 
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