I Can Write About Love I Can Write About Birds And Cats And The Movement Of Water

The sky is dark Like it always is now The wind is strong Winter's frozen vow

The clouds gather In harmonious sorrow Time stopped Between now and tomorrow

Nevermore shall I hear your sweet whisper hello My body lies beneath a hundred blankets of snow

I passed death Slipped beyond his light Into my dark Surrounded by white

I no longer feel There's no sense of cold No heart to beat No love to behold

And in the sun I sparkle with an ever mystic glow My body lies beneath a hundred blankets of snow

Touch may not be necessary for me That warm, skin to skin connection Has never felt as vital as an emotional one

Until I find myself clawing at a stranger Until I am turning my head to the side Avoiding kisses, because that's too intimate And my body wasn't asking for intimacy

In all honesty, I don't even like being touched I avoid situations that involve closeness No need to hug anyone just for the hell of it

Until I wrap my arms around a lover Who's name I've mixed up with the last one's I never picture the ones I really crave Who's touches I am actually yearning for

Certainly I can live my life without touch I don't need it like I do good food or drink It does not sustain my soul like poetry does

Until I remember all the ways I've burned The way you struck your fingers like matches On my hands, on my lips, the entirety of me Inside our fire I have wanted and wanted

But that's really all distant memory now I think I'll slide touch up high on my bookshelf Somewhere between fantasy and memoir

Quiet. There is only quiet. I speak without moving my lips, Without clearing my throat. This voice belongs only to my mind now. It is soft and tender. Words are harsh.

My voice does not criticize me anymore, I have tamed it from the feral creature It once was. Down now, down. My voice wears a collar Though I do not keep it on a leash.

Silent. I am a silent person now. Yes, I speak with lips moving, I converse when I have to.

Is this living? Being a worldly mute? Yes, my voice and I are surviving. Survival is all we can tolerate.

Winter comes to me As an old familiar friend Wrapping me up in its Dark nostalgia Its shadow arms holding Me gently in the day

Grey skies merge into White covered earth The blending of light Colors suddenly Fading into an Afternoon blackness

The cold is my comfort Its wind is a weathered Hand's gentle graze Slowly feeling my face Like winter is remembering What I feel like too

The red-winged blackbird Clings to the cattail It perches on, Calling out in that Short, piercing chirp

They sway in the Gentle breeze together Like one entity

I wonder how the cattail Feels, if it likes Having talons Wrapped around its stem, To be joined in such a way.

How do I give a voice To my anger When I have banished it To the corner For whispering? Like it is the child I am ashamed of, Or that if I were to Let it speak It might scream And never stop

I've passed off so many Thoughts to you, Anger, I'm sorry For making you bear That burden When I had never given You the chance to Grow strong So you might know how To stand by me

And I'm sorry, I never Trusted you Because you hurt So often in the past, I chose serenity, I needed it But I felt you, Simmering inside me Squashed down when All you wanted Was just to be heard

I grip the windowsill too tightly As the dark clouds pour Heavily over an angry ocean Crashing, spraying, flooding Lightning strikes again, again! It's a storm, it's raging, and it's

Too loud! Too loud! Too loud!

Then you tap on my door You slip into my mind And everything else is on mute

Muse, I am holding on to you It is not desperate or clingy I hold you gently, with room to move Or without touching you at all

Your beautiful mind inspires me The way you see the world The convictions you hold I am mesmerized, captivated

I love you, it is obvious, so obvious I can't let go, I have tried Muse, I have tried and failed Over and over and over

All I can do is write you and keep you Do you mind? Are you upset? Tell me it is okay, these feelings I worry my pen is a sword to you

Sometimes I ruin what I'm trying to say by Making use of Too many Words

Here is my hand. Hold it, touch it, embrace it. The hand that reaches out for you Is a solid hand, a steady hand, A writer’s hand, A lover’s hand. It is your lover’s hand.

The hand you hold Is the hand that holds you. It is the hand that dries your tears, The hand that grazes your lips, The hand that is gentle with you, Strong with you, Passionate with you. It is the hand that is with you.

My hand feels you. My hand feels your heartbeat, Your breath, Your tension, The heat of your skin, The release of your stress, Your desire. It is the hand that desires you.

My hand alone sometimes trembles. Sometimes it is lost, Sometimes it is scared, Sometimes it’s unsteady. My hand is cold without yours, My hand needs yours to grab, Its fingers locked between yours. In your hand my hand is safe. Your hand is safe in mine.

Your hand is my hand, And mine yours. Where your hand goes Mine goes too. My hand goes with you. My hand is always with you.