my friend, my everything,
chiseled out of my soul.
goliath would crack me today,
grind me to ashes,
but I would still float against
the wind if it meant I
would end up stuck in your
hair,
as dust on your clothes.
~~~~~~~~~~
they locked you in a white room,
hung your picture on the wall.
"welcome home!"
when they said that, did
you think of me?
you have no windows,
no door.
where are you?
i knock and knock
and dream you'll emerge
from the solidness,
like an aura,
and tell me all your thoughts
like you used to.
like we used to on the
trampoline, summer days,
reaching fingers,
big loves that changed
every second.
those moments are an art gallery
in my mind,
your hand in mine the
most glorious display.
I love the way the light
cascades off our skin,
dripping like rain,
like tears,
like melted ice cream,
making sticky trails all
the way down to our hearts.
~~~~~~~
my friend, my all,
carved out of my bones.
when they said
this is home, did you
tell them they were wrong?
the floor there is only held up
by concrete
while we held each other up by
the skin of our teeth,
smiling and screaming and
begging for just one more minute.
always one more.
~~~~~~~~
you are downed in white now,
but not the kind we used to plan
for before drifting off to sleep,
telling each other that,
of course, I'll be your bridesmaid,
and of course, you'll come
on our honeymoon,
and of course, I'll still love you more.
my girl, my life,
I wish you were still with me.
this gallery of statues hasn't been
dusted in years,
but I know you would
know them all,
like the back of my hand,
like the song of our
mixed laughter.
when you finally get out of that house,
my love,
come home.
-V
YOU ARE READING
who i am and why i'm not (poetry)
ŞiirI'll love you for history, through your death, through mine.
