Tuesday, April 19, 2022

the struggle is surreal


this door I'm trying to close quickly
knowing you're trying to come back
touching this emptiness to another
as open and unmeaning as chanting 

it's sadness so cavernous I can hear 
exhalations from your lungs empty
universes of understanding, fleeing
like meaning between our thoughts 

like a sunset stained on the horizon 
speech is clumsy and stumbles trying
to save us. And so we have words/tears 
and they fall--only one feels right as rain 

1 comment:

Gillian said...

I felt this.

anticipatory story

my mother is old, my father older the hopes in my heart older too  I will them to come back daily the way every day shows the way every day ...