Tidal Wave

I hold this to no standards
The air that you are
the mornings of cold comfort and ice melting down your chest

      I feel like a tidal wave that will drown you

                  I am sorry for the immensity of my words
                    

But if I cannot hold thoughts of you in the jars I gaze up at longingly on my highest shelf
Or keep secrets locked in jewelry boxes in my bottom drawer underneath socks and magazine brochures
How will I remember the moments of fleeting sense and reckless abandon that carved out spaces of beauty in my grey months
How after all that I have invested in seconds, and calendar crosses, and alarms will it not go to waste

                           to evaporate

 

I cannot let you be that

an absence of explanation a slip in my minor scale

a fallen note into pale silence

                                                                                                                            washed away.

Be

the splash of milk in morning coffee
the worn pairs of socks sliding down hallways
the snort of true laughter
and the crinkles of true faces
and the gaps between teeth
the colour of ideas, rainbow, tomorrow
The scraping of chairs, the taker of seats
The owner of space
the rustle of feathers, the rustle of papers
the leaning forward, the leaning in
the unfolded petals, of letting light in, open
Turned to face the sun