All ancient with half breathed love sounds
We keep heaving ourselves onto the table
And hiding ourselves under the couch.
The place to trace the space we once took up.
We sit. We fumble for frozen chunks of words
And mumble half remembered love letters from the
Topmost capillaries of our hearts
We bang our two hopes together and keep hoping that hope will be enough
We light the strangest and darkest fire beneath
Our wings and wonder why we ever forgot to fly
We say half of the half of the half of it
A fraction of the friction that makes fiction from our truths
From the wide open bouts of honesty we tuck into our mouths and hold close for safe keeping.
We keep whispering
Just ten thousand words that are never enough
Just five thousand syllables that all try to say
What is too strong to stick to a sound.
That word before words.
Well a thousand dreams can be torn asunder but I will not move from this moment.
I am a ragtag bunch of beating cells that all sing that sound.
It’s more than love.
And I’m still chasing the word.


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