this is something I need: to sit on the shore with friends. backs to the earth, chests open to the horizon line.
I had a thought
If I could go back in time
I’d wish to be with you when we were both young and unknowing,
to be with you whenever you felt most alone, whenever you cried. we wouldn’t have seen it, but I would be there
I had a thought
I wanted to be with you when you were hurt
and we would sit together until we were finished sobbing, and the moon would look beautiful again
to sit with the soul of pain
and not hassle it,
but stay there until it left. or if it hadn’t, wish it to change.
but maybe it stayed, and stayed the same, and the earth would turn anyway
but I had this thought
and I know
for those moments,
I loved you
I wake up thinking “love, love, love”.
no saints were there for me that day when I forgot your face, because your eyes lost the light I had seen when you told me all those lovely things. and in that night there was you and nothing there for me. sadness brayed but was not heard by the sky.
I go to sleep thinking how coyote teeth are designed to tear
and why I should think “love, love, love,” like ignorant stars;
when the light leaves them and never comes back.
you won’t see her at first, she’s sitting quietly against the wall over there
and inside her head it’s all a little dark. this heart is a cave’s lake. any touch ripples through the entirety of its pitch-black designs.
this girl is sitting quietly staring at her hands
wondering what had been wrong with them.
she’s fallen a few times
and they’ve been cut, and sore, turned numb. she’ll tuck them away so you can’t see. she won’t walk right now, she’s hoping someone will care to come sit with her.
invisibly hoping for the love she has always wanted
but has never seemed to arrive
I drive down dark streets
back again to you, comforts of strangers in strange houses,
islands in this gray sea. I’m driving to you, and you, and you, faces I never see in dreams. I see the roads,
reckless u-turns, overgenerous patience, times in transit, insatiable miles.
strangers unlock doors to strange spaces. rooms become familiar to be forgotten, the lights go out. I don’t catch myself. I don’t stop driving.
lovely blue shades, I think I know you. you’re a part of these deserted streets in dark mornings.
these streets are my freedom. this freedom is terror.