For me there has always been a distance
A long stretch of something intangible
between desire and consummation

Awkward pauses that occurred when my words jumped
Off the trapeze

And someone else's words failed to catch me
I would let go and then
she would let go
But our hands didn't

Reach

Until today - now, this moment
Here
She held part of my hand
(Just the outside half of the palm- soft pinkie side)
And spoke before I could

You don't need to say anymore
Your eyes have asked a question
And my heart has given you the answer

for scribe who is special


was a finger placed on lips: to see
where the car keys had fallen in the snowdrift

she sinks into the passenger's seat, with
a sigh, we have written epics about this
to create no sort of caution

to trace the cracks on the sidewalk with your fingers,
which carves a masterpiece into your hands.

was the silence that enveloped a blessing, a
hand clutches at the arm; warm
tangled limbs become the wilderness
a tightening for my gaze

and we arrive, we wait, impatient, as

presents scattered around
in the midst of an inattentive child -
he smiles, his eyes relegate
beside the scene
and uncover nothing.

she turns, speaks, and in weariness,
she rises from my sheets and throws them aside,
she rises from the sheets
to emulate the tides in shape, in grace
falls again to the ground, closes her eyes and
left ajar still was nothing.

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