Snowed today but it’s all gone now. Slow danced in a box room between stilted conversation, With people I’ve always loved but who have never existed. The G string is me, and the thinner B string is a thin veil of them. We exchange wonderfully tense in each other’s breath space. Sentiments drag in the air and fall through it, Casting shadows in the shifting shapes of meanings, Into the pockets where the lung’s soft projections are obscured. Feel every crack in a crumbling voice, Searching for the words at such fragile close range. Cannot help. Cannot know. It would be beautiful to know. But it is also beautiful not to. To swim in the lush tension, And float on the bottomless tolerance of the unsaid, For another lifetime of calm quiet suspense. We are two rings of a Venn diagram, Heavy with swallowed feelings we aren’t sure will fit into our overlap. Pulled closer with each response. So aware, and so lost as every second after incendiary, anchorless second scrapes past.
Quit Vision 