be gentle

another bouquet of flowers, tenderly offered. the sweet strum of your guitar lingers. i wonder how to protect my heart while still allowing it to bloom.

sometimes, i say, i’m overwhelmed by his affections. and yet here i am, pen in hand, writing poetry about our connection. i know it’s unfair, this tug of war, but our hearts tiptoe around what we both know: vulnerability is both a gift and a risk. and yet as time bends and distance fades, hope blossoms with every secret we share. you could write me a song — or we could write it together.

oh, the tapestry of daydreams we weave; painting our desires with strokes of anticipation. i stitch in a kiss. and you, a brush of fingertips. we might grow to love whatever unfurls. we might stop when it begins to unravel.

how do i end a poem about a story that’s still being written? i’m scared of the unknown, so i’ll leave you with this: even if we come undone in tears and shreds, i’ll still reread our chapter with a smile. that tug of war, we’ll both concede; we’ll find a way to stay at peace.

The Curse of Love

as the slush and snow come down, i tremble lightly, craving the warmth of your fingers. it has been days since the hands of my clock changed their story, eternity since the taste of your body reminded me of love. just to hear you breathe would do more to give me life than air ever could, and yet all i sense is the coldness of the rain on my window. the sun crawls lower and the darkness whispers hostile words into my chest. and it begins.
suffering comes in stinging waves, washing upon my lungs, leaving traces of dust on my skin. in the quiet static outside of my reality, the world offers no hand. the raindrops tap tap on my window sill, they try but cannot keep up with the rhythm of my heartbeat. water races itself down the cold glass as i fight the deafening silence. i wonder why in such a situation my mind is so cruel to scream your name as some sort of haven, but perhaps that is the curse of love. you cannot separate the happiness from the pain. you must share one and conquer the other. together.
a tiny warmth flickers in my chest and burns on at your name. i wish only my smiles felt the need to keep you apprised of their presence, but so do my tears. for that i am truly sorry. to think of cool winds murmuring soft kind secrets to the trees, to imagine sunlight glowing past the leaves through the space in my fingers, to feel your eyes gazing upon me with the tenderness of a child’s touch: these are the gifts i grant myself during times of desolation. the human heart beats for a long time before it stops and vanishes all together. mine has never come so close to protection like you. perhaps that is terrifying in the way the very real possibility of one’s only home catching fire is terrifying.
i notice i’m clutching my hands so tight there are marks, as if i can hold us together though time has thrown us apart. the days have grown short inside me, and the night brings back to my mind your arms reaching for my waist underneath soft warm blankets like rays of sunshine seeping through the gaps in my blinds. i miss the way your eyes used to hold mine. i stare at my fingertips and the tiny slices in my skin feel like only they really belong to me. there is only so much i can expect. and so much i can hope for.