a quiet communication

sometimes

there is nothing

    more

than silence between us

(or the soft white humming

   of a forgotten television)

  

I sit with my

   dinner, next to

him, with the daily paper

   resting

      haphazard on his lap.

he is a man of

          so few words

& the stillness here

   is absolute. but,

it’s not uncomfortable,

              only quiet.

we are content

  to sit like this because

my Father

      sees in my eyes

  the same dreams

that once shined in his

& because he speaks

  that same

muted,

 but hopeful language,

he understands all the things

   I’ve written

into every single

pause.

so,  when he looks up

from the black & white

     woes of the world

& spreads his smile towards me,

            I hear his pride & his Love

without a single sound.

the swarm

this is how time stops

in an emotional influx

with a surging swarm

swimming inside me.

(and I feel like

the boy from that

book I read

who had bees

living in his belly)

all chaos & rage

hidden,  but buzzing on.

 a carefully contained fury

you’d never notice

at a glance.

please, don’t ask me

to smile or speak

I’m afraid that

if I part my lips

these stinging secrets

will escape

& damage someone else.

re-collapse

I remember this feeling

now…

the slow pain

creeping under my skin

burrowing into my chest

then shattering my ribs

one by one

ruthlessly ripping me apart

tearing its’ way

from the inside

out.

yes…

how could I ever

forget this feeling?

the anger & fear

that implodes

rocking my body

to the core

while shards of

whatheldmetogether

ricochet through

newly hollow places.

it’s strange how fast

it all comes back.

a bomb of betrayal

like a flash

forever burning,

& seared into

the backs of my eyelids.

how i can bear the goodbyes

I've grown to be
really good at goodbyes
almost unflinching even
(When once I winced)
at the slow & awkward
unstitching
That finds us
fumbling
& bumping heads
Both timidly
but somehow fervently
tugging at the threads
That bind us
While still trying
not to damage
that frail fabric
Which once held us
Tightly together.

I've grown so accustomed
To goodbyes
that when the time comes
And we're both standing
awkwardly
with a strange emptiness
gaping at our sides
I will even thread my needle
& stitch you shut with care
then top it off with
a kiss for the pain
& a band-aid.

I've become so used
to goodbyes
But it is simply because now,
my heart is always waiting
at the edge of the doorway
with a hand ready to push it open
For your easy escape
I have grown so good at goodbyes
By no longer believing
in the hellos.

personal geography

face down in heavenly blankets

my thoughts & emotions swell like the sea

our hearts beating,

rhythmic as rain

the thunder of you pounding out against me

pouring over the curves &

the continent of my skin

your nature, unyielding

beginning, again & again

to unravel the mysteries of each valley.

& no stone is left unturned

all secrets unraveled, forests fallen

my strongest walls are burned

by the heat of your passionate fingers

while fires fade & hands retreat

some ceaseless singeing always lingers

long, after you leave, & I’m left

changed & bound to a memory

no storms, or wind will wash away

what you’ve done to my geography.