Wednesday, March 11, 2015


today is my favorite type of day:
and whispering of rain
but with no definitive promises made.
no guarantees.
a glorious sort of uncertainty.

there is a melancholy sweetness to the air
something i wish i could
and make part of myself.
something to replace
my blood with.

some part of my insides
in a way that i can hardly stand.
in a way that i never want to stop.
in a way that is the only way
i know how to breathe.

the breeze is silk on my cheek
is the rhythm the trees' branches dance to
so it is the rhythm my heart finds life to
as well

and together, this becomes a symphony -
yet deafeningly loud.
yet blindingly present.
something lost,
yet something at last

it is without language,
but not mute.
it speaks of all that goes
it speaks of all i
wrestle to bring language to.

it hovers just above
something bone chilling
something dangerous
something dark.
it is on the edge of what was,
but has gone past that which
shall never be.

today is my favorite type of day
full of unrequited affections
and something i wish i could