when you speak to me of love
your voice is all constricted,
your gaze is down,
watching restless movements,
birds circling your feet — today’s incompletes
drowning in substantive
thought — i can feel it — the reverberated
shuffling, night’s ripple of uncomfortable,
mistimed tuneless
unorchestrated movements,
the awkward in-betweens of our life.
and yet.
full of care,
care sits right over there,
with you. sits where you sit, somehow
it fits, & i am — comfortable
for the first time — in a long time. yet
my heart is pounding, rushing, flowing,
pulsing, growing into you, pulling away.
blooming — booming — my voice
is all avoidance, avoiding me, the day,
my feelings as all the words flow on repeat
and rush away — flowing forwards,
rushing, running,
leaving me.
standing -— still.
my mind
and all contained — will never find the still,
the air around, the room in which we sit
or stand, to fall.
i fall, i fail.
the continual fall to fail,
below your feet.
and who am i.
a passing torment.
a passing — wasted
moment,
inside the blink —
of your eye.
©kbain2018.
