if I died today
my love
unexpressed
would bloom
from my chest
and sow seeds
of a thousand
new worlds
and in them
we are whole
together
hand in hand
the red string
that binds us
twisting between
stars and planets
our soles have
never trod
we wander in
unknowing
of the little Love
which bid us
grow
Tag: Relationships
drought.
you taste like magic;
like electric tendrils
snaking through my tongue
to converge in the tips
of my fingers where they touch
your waiting skin
in a frenzy of sound and
sensation
the smell of your breathing
like the burning of oxygen
in my lungs.
we could burn the night sky
alive
if we could just
live inside the thunder
and the clouds.
we could hide from the sun
and all her expectations
in the eye of the storm,
in the quiet calm before
destruction,
when everything must be
rebuilt,
and the floods leave the
dry earth
wanting more.
inside.
I want to be a singing ghost inside your whispered dream,
unremembered and unrepentant in the bright light of morning.
I want to be a sighing monster in your darkened closet,
rustling through old clothes and old memories you’ve packed silent.
I want to be a reflection in your fogging bathroom mirror,
where you write a message in the water and wait for a response,
I want to be the closing statement to your last eulogy,
the final sentiment imparted upon the world you’ve loved.
I want to be the opening to your always, always closing,
I don’t want to be the thing you left behind.
sing-a-long.
you but merely smiled,
and I tripped over the curve of your cheek,
fell into the breath you exhaled,
sighing your sweetness onto my gracelessness.
your laughter like a song,
I danced my clumsy feet along its rhythm,
tried to find the tempo in my racing heart,
to worship you in movement.
you became a lullaby,
and I, a suckling babe,
staring upward into your heavens,
my heart begging to join your dreams.
bloom.
with your fingers,
you sowed seeds in my skin,
and like that, I became a garden
from which flowers grew
under summer rain.
now, though it is winter,
and I wither, and I sleep,
I know your palms hold safe
the sun which you give
each day to me in silence.
wilderness.
how I would have followed you with quilted roses
to the secret hidden spaces where we lied
under thick blankets of darkness
chilled and frenzied, dreamland of icy fire
how I would have hung your name about the stars
wrapped in willow branches and children’s hymns
swaying sweetly in the sighing breeze of thunder
quiet and crashing, solace in my heart of ire
how I would have found you in the mountains
crouched and creeping daisies in your hair
whispering faerie tales to the dead trees of winter
still and dancing, a tune on lovers’ lyre
how I would have handed you forever
could I just have found the time
slipping past the seconds, and the moments, all the miles
forgotten silken hours, threadbare hanging from the walls of memory
how I could have loved your tameness, had I been not wild and free
camping.
I want
to sit by the warmth
of the fire of your soul
to warm my aching bones
in your heat
to sing a song
without words
from my mouth
with no tongue
to touch the sky
of your skin
mapped with constellations
of all the places you’ve gone
to sink into darkness
with weary head
and thumping heart
to forget days
and nights
and space
and motion
all the pittances of life
to cut the thread of time
with the lover’s knife
repetition.
saying that there is love out there for everyone, is like saying that every star is a part of a constellation
when the truth is that some of us were just born, ignited, without close proximity to anyone who could see us shining.
and don’t you dare tell me that every cloud has a silver lining, because I’ve looked at the sun until it hurt my eyes, and blinded me for days,
and yet still, I could cry, and it didn’t matter that there wasn’t any rain.
don’t you tell me that things get better with time because I’ve counted the sand in my hourglass,
time after time, 30 minute intervals turned to days and turned to weeks and months,
just turning it over and over to see how much it took.
but when I sat it back on the shelf and resumed my place in line,
turned out that nothing was different and the hurts were still mine.
finalities.
I dreamt of you,
and upon waking,
at felt as though you’d just stepped from my room.
as though your hand had only left my forehead,
and the softness of your footsteps,
the quiet of your absence,
had woken me and left me hence.
knowing that I could run out my door,
calling your name,
arms open,
and you’d not be there.
you’d never be there again.
mirage.
I fell in love with the color of your eyes,
the soft light of morning barely kissing your skin.
a gentle almost-touching of fingertips to waiting lips,
but no…
I fell in love with careless words uttered in passion,
whispers, breathtaking, on over-eager ears.
a quiet solace in unknowing, promises sworn to never be broken,
and so..
I fell in love with a stranger I’ve yet to know,
a reflection in a mirror I’ve told exactly what to show.
the steady downfall of awakening, open eyes and closing heart.
I go.
iamwhatshewrote 
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