Communication

Things unsaid,
and I haven't the words,
ruining everything.

It's what I do.

I took all the depth,
the complexities,
the emotion,
and the struggles,
tied them up in a few words,
then hung them in a tree to dry.

It's me and mine.
It's what I do.

Conversation and Tea

Moments of clarity.

Everything has been a rush of hot emotion,
since the moment we met.

My sensible brain, on hiatus,
replaced by wanting, taking.

But what I want isn't just a
quick fuck;
you're something special.

And now, in the quiet time,
before I start the day,
I think about how I want to do this properly.

Let's start with conversation and tea.

death

a death is not the time,
for a philosophical discussion,
with an atheist.

an atheist at a funeral reminds you of your permanent
impermanence

we're like the accountant at the party,
a void forms around us,
thoughts unexpressed permeate the air.

we have no comforting platitudes,
we can only accept the sadness.

Almost Summer

Now it's November already.
The smell of black powder in the air,
and pine needles just around the corner,
it's gone so fast!
like it never really happened,
and the past is like

a

gaping

wound

still

and she's still in my thoughts,
still,
but less now,
but less.

It's closing over,
it's healing.

So much change,
I hardly even know myself,
though I always did before,
but I'm still there,
still I'm here.

The seasons roll into summer,
the smell of warm waves,
of the sun on my skin,
of renewal and cleansing,
of letting go,
finally,
it's time now,
it's time.