I wrote love along the hallway walls, I wrote sadness on the street.
If I could photograph your silence, I’d capture the movement in frames.
Can you imagine words alone holding my skin together inside of what’s left?
There is a dimness that remains above, there is contrast across my face.
I count the floor boards by twos and watch them swell at my dismay.
If you’d notice the milk glass bowls collecting, instead of forcing blindness in the way,
maybe the blood red secrets would soak through the paper lining the way to the end.
Maybe the fear would calm, maybe the feet inside my heart would still.
Can you imagine words alone, draining yesterday onto stationary too pretty to hold?
I wrote a song at midnight for your loss, I held the stars together with fingers and twine.
Perhaps the whispers gathering up in piles could trip your experience to the right,
possibly lead your tomorrows into nothing.
I hoped your eyes would get caught in the hallway, or tangled in the street,
at least that way they’d absorb the love and sadness in it’s rawness,
...and the piece of me that hid there.