Equal too but not quite,
Art has colagulated.
When I first began
it felt like the music that played
when fingers danced over ebony and white.
It ferments now,
the words my mind can not erase,
stewing
to an agitated curdle
at the back of my throat.
Sometimes I feel like a lush
with savory metaphors
something like this…
I want to walk out across the ocean
or deep into the uncut forest
with the friend I can tell anything to
and not feel afraid
for what I have to say
or how it might be told.
I want to sit there in silence
listen to our breath
and in that moment
forgetting the details of love
but feeling life
- Letting go
lips parting wide
releasing
letters that drip across blank pages
in the quiet
equal to but not quite
my vibrant emotions
against your cool calm
resonate
allowing my withholding
of these words.
