love is a sadness

a mark against sun

warm rain

stored tears

sometimes on the best of days

you cannot find joy

love can hurt like a sting


never forgotten

It us better to have felt

all my pain and ecstasy

than feel nothing

and sometimes I see your eyes

graze over me

they are not present

you feel so little like a spindle

growing light of wool

It is as if you need

less oxygen

to function

and in those times, I want to say

oh love me as if we were dying

love me with all of you, not just some

fall as deep as I

but you never have

It isn’t your way

you are

sunlight hitting surface

to us beneath

the warmth barely gets through

and we grow thin

and restless

and hungry

44 Replies to “Spindle”

  1. There is a peculiar pain
    That comes when thinking
    Of a lover, no matter how sweet
    Who did not take their armor off
    Along with their clothing.

  2. I know it’s been a while, life is crazy, busy and beautiful, but I love scrolling through my blog stream and finding your poems there, always a breath of fresh air. ❤

  3. You capture that subtle barrier between two human beings, even lovers, so well. It’s always there, and sometimes, when things are good, we can forget, but it doesn’t take much for it to reappear.

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