The clock strikes,
Self-harming itself
Resonating like a deep, dusty, denial-heavy voice
Foretelling
Unrelenting
A question of when not if, never if.
Not yet. Not now.
Soon enough.
We knew, we know,
Easier and harder
Can't be sad, not allowed
Too much love
There is a thickness
of tongue,
the air,
our words,
of lips,
the eyes,
our love
I do and don't know what to say
Too sensitive, not sensitive enough?
Poor jokes attacking the future
Trying to crack a smile or two
Take the seriousness out of it
Brush the pain back into the cracks
Hold her
Touch her
Her warmth always feels like its permanent
Clinging to me, hugging me
A parting gift
Better than a kiss
As powerful as a hand written letter
The physical version of I love You
She belongs where the heart is
With me
With her
Us
Her voice speaks through her eyes
It shoots at the world around her
Her heart on her sleeve
The pain of painfully hating vulnerability
I hate it too
Our happy sad setting looks on
Not moving
It waits, not watching
It understands, it ushers
We part
Salted faces
Smeared tears
Rosie eyes
Crocked vocals
Good bye my dear,
I love you
I love you too.
Bye
Wave. Smile. Gone
YOU ARE READING
Homegrown POEMS
PoetryThey forced their way to the surface and my fingers did as they were told.
