Poetry

If only …

I speak half-truths,
afraid to let the whole out,
afraid I’ll be swallowed
by past mistakes,
my usual missteps
but I find you know
what’s unspoken.

I look in your eyes and know
I don’t have to say anything
if I don’t want to.

You watch me closely
during silences, holding back,
afraid of being rejected.
Watching the storm
rage in my head
you swallow your words,
and kiss me hard.
You live there too.

You look in my eyes and know
you don’t have to say anything
if you don’t want to.

We are the walking wounded,
commiserating not with words
but with nods, sighs, silences.

You entered the empty room
where I sat, perched on the edge,
unaware of any danger.

You showed me your hands, empty,
turned out your pockets, empty too
but for some lint
and a stray guitar pick.

And I trust, just for a moment,
that there is nothing more to this
than that …
empty hands,
empty pockets,
some lint,
a guitar pick.

I lean toward you and suddenly
the pressure changes, drops,
a dizzying lack of oxygen
and I am falling back, on my back
and you are on top of me,
and I am falling…
falling…
falling …
and we are tumbling past reason
straight into abandon.

And here I thought you were unarmed.

(a pantoum)

We feel no need to close our eyes.
We watch each other constantly,
daring revelation, exposure,
hours spent lost in recognition.

We watch each other constantly,
lips meet gently, eyes wide open.
Hours spent lost in recognition,
a freedom you have never known.

Lips meet gently, eyes wide open,
reluctant to miss a moment.
A freedom you have never known
you let ancient fears melt away.

Reluctant to miss a moment,
“I love you” escapes from my lips.
You let ancient fears melt away,
not wanting to turn back again.

“I love you” escapes from my lips,
daring revelation, exposure.
Not wanting to turn back again,
we feel no need to close our eyes.

You called me brave again
but I should tell you I sleep very little,
listening for footsteps, the soft click
of a key, a trigger,
though I know the deadbolt is on
because I’ve checked twice already
and we had the locks changed years ago.
Still I rise in the quiet to check nightly, pacing the hall,
watching them sleep with their lights on,
as we all still do.

You called me strong tonight
but the steady drip, drip, drip of everyday life
has worn my veneer thin and it takes
longer and longer every day to
step across that threshold,
open my self, open my mouth and speak.
More often than not, I’m struck dumb
with panic, doubt, mistrusting myself to make
even the simplest of decisions, constantly
checking my reflection to see
if the frayed edges are showing.

i find myself wishing
that i were anything
but what i am

inconsequential

pressing until my fingers
crush their own tips,
pushing on myself
to make sure i am

ineffectual

i thought i was becoming
more each time but
in searching i only find
raw distortions of me
between the lines.

inanimate

each word obscures
until i am left as
a dusky myth
in the corner
behind yesterday.