Floating Words
We don't talk about it anymore orshoot glimpses into empty rooms
I am woven, weaved into you
like yarn used to darn and mend
invisible holes that only gimlet eyes see.
How does silence stretch so far?
I ache into angular corners,
coffee cream and magnolia blossom
scent the air that I breathe.
I'll lie and look at ceilings hearing
your breathing beside me so
that when the cacophony of
unspoken words cease,
I'll slip and slide into that space
where afterwards the reverberations
will steep and soothe into each
arching moments and still
we won't talk about it anymore.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2008-01-10 at 11:12
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