The Words

On my blank page

They see a frame.

Instead, I see your face.

Paper hosting our dear fate–

And did you feel that, too?

The promise of remembering you?

I see stories miles long

And words that sing a song

Of deep and sad defeat.

Every feeling that I’ve owned

From all that you have ever known.

All of me is all you’ve sown.

Every time I go to write

And all my characters come to life

Or California flies to me

In hazy, familiar remedy

Sewn by pen that loops in glee

You are there to meet me.

        On every page.

In every secret letter change.

Every word that stems from heart

And swears to take my every part.

I cannot speak or write or think

Without the pain that you’re missing.

I wait for it to let me go,

Instead to linger all the more.

I put it down before it wastes

And hope to see what you’ve erased,

Yet in fleeting vapor motions

Do you come and still evade.

You wrote to find out who you were

In rhythms, rhymes and messy blurs

Of overly romantic, tragic words.

But lost you were

In midst of sea, and empty

Did you find your page to be.

I watch the pencil sink and grow

The feelings only you and I know.

Without you here with me

A drenched and throbbing

Memory of you

Is fighting to be set free.

It’s not okay to think you’re bad

Or think it’s a mistake.

To take this closeness as a curse

For something in this universe

Has kept you near to me.

Now distance is the memory.

So you’re still here

In glimpses of the words.

Yours burned and mine came.

You got lost but I remained

To keep something alive.

My hand is held by this.

Now every cabinet is filled

With sheets you’re stitched into.

And I hope to show you

Before you’re truly gone,

All the words you gave me

That I have ever sung.

-December 2015

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