War Against the Silence


I've been told that I can't save you.
Perhaps I'll believe it one day.
Meanwhile, I'll keep drinking and dancing
and drinking you in, in secret.
Alone, I dream of you with my hands,
but they can't play me like yours do.
Soft and selfish, they take me apart, strip me down
'til nothing's left but shaken blood and heat.
My inner space expanded, there's room enough for you.
As one, we spill our shadows, painting frenzied shapes,
the sheets, a fissured mosaic beneath us,
quiet carved by whispers I scream to you in the dark.
Pulling tears toward my open chest,
your tongue unravels my skin, tracing ruptured scars
along my ribs from loving you and all your broken pieces.
In place of goodbye, silence and smoke;
our clouds of tired breath shine like webs beneath the moon.
On winter's wings float aching notes of words we'll never say.

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