Tag: love

Abstract Artist

I’m in love with a stranger.

He is a painter.

He paints in articulate words and vivid colors,

And I find comfort in his unfamiliarity–

It captures my image of what bold should be–

Like the edges of his skin when I touch him–

But he stands behind a door without a number,

And it rests at the end of my sight,

So I continue to move towards something that is, and isn’t, there.

I am in love with a stranger,

And he is a painter.

Heavy Listening

Words are lost in translation and

my mind is a blur of yes and no and run,

but I wait for someone to step out of this blur

and say something that sounds like a warm greeting–

a hello from quiet mornings and coffee–

but my thoughts are too light for the harsh reality that claims my fate,

and I can’t run away

from a present perfect destruction that waits in the corners of every room–

every hidden space that makes a piece of the puzzle that was never meant to be there.

It was never meant to fit where

I wanted to place it.

I wasn’t meant for building concrete things.

I was meant for discreet passage ways

In tunnels that have no space for answers.

 

You Found Me

My eyes hold the dark

Like an open tomb

My mouth cries out

For someone to look at me—

I hear the boards creak.

I feel the walls crack

As dust fills my nose

And the floors shake

Like an earthquake.

Light crawls through the spaces

And my body relaxes.

I am not alone in this darkness.

I see you standing beside the rubble

Looking at me,

Waiting with an open hand,

And I begin again.

I push my body through the pieces of concrete,

And reach.

Your eyes found me.

Your hands took mine,

And we left this place.

This place of dry bones and fallen things.