Thinning fabric

We broke up the other day, I’m trying to pretend not to notice

Truth to tell we were never really together

I try to recall the times you’ve broken my heart

I’ve let them fade into the fabric of our story

Fabric worn thin by my worrying hands retracing patterns again and again

Trying to commit us to memory

I glance at your piece of our cloth, you’ve cut out bits of us, leaving patches in our truth

I wonder if you remember what it looked like before you erased us

Does your mind recall how beautiful we were?

Threads woven together bright and dark, hazy and shining

Like sun breaking through clouds after a raging storm

These days, you see only the storm, can only take in the chaos

Should your fingers try to retrace us, they’d find holes held together by trivial pieces of our memory

I still see us, breaking boldly through clouds

Weaving our story together with threads of tenderness, laughter and pain

How could you cut us apart?

I’ve kept my piece intact; fingers retrace our history at times lovingly, at times mournful

Feeling always where we’ve thinned out

Our fabric is worn, the time has come to put us away

Tracing patterns once more I fold us up and place us in my dresser, next to old faded sweatshirts of love gone by

What you choose to do with your fabric, I have no say

For my part, I’ll keep mine hidden and safe

Neatly folded and forgotten as we carry on the aimless game we play

We broke up the other day and today, the sun is hidden away

Skies are dark, dreary and grey, contented to stay that way

Skimming the surface

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I feel seen by your eyes; this frightens me

A bead of sweat drips down your face. I stare, enthralled. I find myself contemplating its flavor.

Your mouth has got me shook. I cant. Stop. Staring.

I peek inside your mind and find it lined with shelves, littered with papers and books, some left open and forgotten. I imagine you skim through them from time to time. But only when necessary

I want to be there when you get out of the shower to smooth your skin with shea butter while your body is still steaming, and hot, and wet

Sometimes, I imagine you’re stretched out beside me. We lay on cool green grass below a tall sprawling tree, sheltered from the blazing sun

you know how when you’re reading and you realize your mind has wandered? Well, my mind wanders to you

I fantasize about loving you. For this, I blame you and I blame Audre. In no particular order.

If I’m right, you think of me slightly less than I think of you, this both draws me back and drives me forward

List for me the following:

your favorite book

your favorite poem

your favorite song

I want to search for you in their words

The next time we are alone, I will not tell you how I feel

I write around you, not about you. I tell myself skimming over you is easier than diving in.

Chest Deep

Distance is strange

I forget how I feel,

If I feel

 

Everything seems more romantic

or more dramatic

than it is

 

Things get lost in translation

we get lost in translation

the space between what is and what has been

 

Is murky

I wade through it

and at times there is no light

 

Just me, chest deep in our history

trying to feed the flame of our passion

I see you up ahead

 

A silhouette

lined in golden ember

at times, it seems all I do is follow you

 

Then I look back and see you there

I wonder how I could have missed you

where was I when you passed me unseen?

 

This murk must end

we must find our way through,

until then?

 

I’ll wade in this space between

The Alchemist

I gave you a book to read,
So that maybe you could

Understand a little bit of
What is on my soul
It sat on the bottom of your night
Stand, for months
Until timidly, I asked for it back

And I can’t help but think

This is a metaphor for our relationship.

Portal

Caught, snared, captured
Hopeless or hopeful?
Her eyes found me
Sought me, kept me
Held me in their gaze
All things swayed out of focus
Shifted, just left of center
Left us in the middle
Alone, together, alone.
Penetrating, seeking, searching
Her eyes bore into me
Rousing secrets I’d buried
Stories I’d forgotten, searching
Holding, prodding, held.
Was she in my world, or was I in hers?
Her eyes, those eyes, portals
I was most certainly in hers.
Someone spoke,
Portal to her world closed
All things shifted, swayed
Placed me back into my world
Alone, ever, alone.

Mystery

She wants to know why I can’t talk to her.  How do I explain to her that my mouth is full of cotton, she asks me questions and I spit out fibers in place of words.  She is filled with brilliance. It drips from her lips every time they part.  How do I explain to her that I ache for genius to flow from my being.  I want nothing more than for her to look at me and see a reflection of herself shining through.  She is my highest reverence. I am of little or no consequence to her, and that fact makes my heart ache.

She tells me that she doesn’t understand my behavior.  Doesn’t understand why I say the things I say.  How do I articulate my insecurities?  How do I map out the ways in which I overcompensate for the areas I come up lacking?  That is where my behavior stems from. That is why I do the things I do, but that is not answer enough, doesn’t spell out the ways I let her down, let myself down.