i love you
for not mirroring me,
but don’t know
who to
be..
when we don’t look each
other in the
eye–
when we don’t
even
try.
shadow work
in a half woken
state
i sense the room
shake
and know you’re back
for after hour
games,
so we play one
or two,
but you never
lose
and have yet to reveal
your name.
not waiting for
the ghost..
to ask if she
forgives
me
for any thought
i can’t
hide
when she finds her
way inside.
blowing kisses
at mirrors
won’t bring you
back into
view,
wish i were giving
in a way
that made it worth
your trip
back
into these
arms.
storm of the
day-
i love your
breath
and irreverence
for my hair,
i dare stare you
right in your
eye-
jealous of the
solace in
there.
don’t know how
to talk with
people,
the pressure to feel
beautiful
every moment of
every day..
invading my own
thoughts
in same grave
ways–
only to get
caught.
like a door
opened
slow-
the light cracks
just slightly,
a breeze enters
briskly,
the fear sets in
quickly-
so tempting to
close.
that branch hangs
heavy
over your
brow,
it’s birdless and
parched
and lacking in
bark,
yet, you spot beauty
in it somehow.
i get too eager
whenever you’re near,
i crowd your
space-
breathe in your
face,
must take
a step back
to see you
clearer.
with cracked hands
all over my
years–
i shiver just
enough
to remind me i’ve
been touched.
hands in the garden 
You must be logged in to post a comment.