If I had the courage to tell you
I’d tell you I’m foolish
as they say in Texas; this isn’t my first rodeo
I know better
here I am though, thinking of you
remembering the way you move when
you pause to sit down
sleek and translucent like silk
the fall of your chin, and rise of your clavicle
how the harpsichord of your mouth bows and sends
me crossing my legs in want
how I know you diminish yourself
cannot see, what I
quiet and observant
in my courageless pretense of being
just friends
notice in the gentle sway of you
sometimes I wish the world woke up
and girls loved girls everywhere
though it would be like chocolate
lovely at first and then too much
there is something sacred in smaller numbers
we are rare night birds who fly singing
when everyone else is asleep
sometimes we recognize each other just by
a glance
like a language only we damson girls speak
those who love others in whispers
…
for the most part it is a lonely walk
being the cuckoo in the nest
watching girls you thought glorious, invariably fall in love with boys
their hearts broken when you
could have given them the spin of a dream
it is not the weft of this world to permit
girls who love girls become the norm
we will always be the nightingale and the black swan
I will feel the need to apologize
if I look at you too long
for it is a respectful dance we learn
to stay our distance and not become
a pastiche or cliche; the girl who loved girls led astray
by someone incapable of returning her ardor
though if you could just break the rules
sometimes I suspect, in the way you gaze back
all redolent and tied tightly with secrets
we’d have a grand ole time
…
there are worlds you haven’t even imagined
places you cannot give names to
once you swim to that fair isle, few return willingly
I don’t boast but what’s wrong with admitting
love between girls has a special season
deep and sonorous, we think such things do not exist
only because our imagination is not so
vivid
if you gave me one word or even
on a certain day, when feeling bold I may
require just a particular arching smile
as you let go and said; Yes I do
I’d not hesitate to make you mine
all your closeted longing
the belief you hold, that love has a sell by date
and you are not worthy
I would remove each of those
aches like the layers of an artichoke
delving into what makes you tremble
and find there, the pain and the longing
owning no words just primal need
like a river coming to flood the delta
I’d pour myself into your loneliness
the many nights you dreamed, of being reached so deep
gave up thinking that will never be me, I could not be loved that much
in the reflection of my longing, you would see
the worth of you and how all those fears
were just surfaces as yet untouched
for we who dance
together
never
stop
and I will not let go
if you just
reach
out
You make me wish I was gay, but I love you anyway sister! Love B (MK = uMkhonto we Siswe – the Old African National Congress)
I love that one of the tags is “bi-curious.”
Everything and more is in this piece. Beautiful, Candice.
charged with grrrrl power. a powerful beacon.
I aim to please. 💜
I reached the end of this yearning for her to give that one word, that one sign and be shown the worth you see.
You’ve made me laugh so hard!!!
Hahahaha!!!! I love your comment! 💓
💓 raw! 😉 Thank you! 💓
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – A yearning waiting
So powerful, love.
That is beautiful, sexy, sad, inspiring, vulnerable, and so TRUE all at once! The last stanza had me teary- it’s so true. Well done x
Of a yearning so marvellously told
A beautiful tribute by one in love!
Simply a beautiful poem, Candice.