Friday, April 12, 2013

I was always amazed,
at the ease with which you said "love",
like it was 'fish' or 'rain' or 'blood',
"What is there to it" you would ask,
and repeat in my ears
like a chant,
Love. Love. Love.
and I would carry it afterwords
like a talisman tugging at my throat.

On my tongue the word tasted of death,
of loneliness residing in the center of my breasts,
Yet I  look for ways to show you ,
the countless times it foamed the corners of my mouth,
Like when I look up from my book
to watch you sleep with eyelids half closed,
Like when I feed you two white round sugar pills
and steal one for myself,
hoping to feel your ease after breathlessness,
Like when we are away
and everything could be forgotten,
how I can close my eyes and hear your lips brush my ears,
and inside of my eyes like a dream
I  can bring myself to say it all aloud.


  1. A favorite maxim of a close friend of mine - 'What is not written down does not exist'. It may not be true, perhaps, in the case of love. But how we try! Funny, we express love and it is conveyed too, not in so many words, but in communicable silence!

    Taut words that restrain emotions like barbed wire. Yet it is the fence that reflects the prisoners inside.

    Remembered your name and googled.

    Nice to have met you at Poetry Chain.


    1. Thanks for reading :)It was nice to have met you as well. Happy writing!