Thursday, April 12, 2012

This is a poem about holding hands,
and how it inevitably changes everything

About how the moment you feel someone's fingers,
Curled in yours,
You are home, intertwined.

There are no more lines of this poem left to describe,
What happens when you let go.


Outside, at a Party

He looks her in the face
(A face dewey from the mist outside)
And tells her,
"I don't love you."

But she persists,
With batting eyelashes
(Flitting with nervousness and hope)
And proudly rebuffs,
"I don't believe you."

And so they stand there,
In total silence
(The kind of silence that is brief and yet lasts forever)
And he knows she is right.
And she knows now she must leave him.

But neither can begin to end it.

So they quiet their heart's desires,
Outside, at a party
And simply say "Goodnight" instead.