I have a pile of letters with blurred signatures
Mountains of photographs with blank faces
all these words inside my heart slowly fading
into an observant silence.

I think there is something more important
than zealotry in love; something small
that can calm me. If I had wanted a sea
I could be an alcoholic; If I want storms
I could cast a net ashore, capture
silver streaks by the thousands
pull them into my ship, tear them open
to be devoured. But I stay on land,
build cathedrals in the center of town.

One way to defy gravity
is to rest your head on empty spaces
and hope they will sustain you. If you
are right- there is no God in this room
anymore: just statues, pictures
without faces, letters without signatures,
a phone book with names I swear
are spelled incorrectly; and the world?
What is this world but other people,
and myself? Myself; I can be content
but if that's all there is, there is no reason
to take any extraneous steps, no need
to put Joy outward.

Some days I cannot take a single step
without hope for us to change, without
believing that we are not defined solely
by what we have been but
by what we will be; and I cannot find
a sole motivation besides it. I surrender
the idea of zealotry in love. Something
small that can calm me: I am focused;
content; real. Adjectives, not verbs;
while you want to be falling, burning,
racing, speeding: I am content
with describing stillness; and this is why
I am growing desperate.

Though I have been severed
I have never felt alone, until now.
Even the new girl isn't home.
I am waking you from sleeping
and the sun is setting on a perfect day
My eyes are dry but I am exhausted
from entertaining the notion
that we are unclear on this:

You are more to me than passion.
When we set each other on fire
the foundations stay intact. You are
the last pure reason for hope;
the singular source of faith
in any better version of myself;
you have helped me build
this center; you have hoisted ropes
and built yourself permanently
inside of my soul; nothing else-
not the best of words, or the worst-
can change my soul from yours.

As if these trifles we invented
have ever mattered; if we argue
over semantics in some short meeting
if I am not your best friend
and we are not in love
if we do not even get along
on a daily basis
it doesn't distract me
from the most important element
that for me to be who I am;
who we are is who WE are
and there is not much else besides.



-e. 













 



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