(this is the poem i wrote for the thing at school and it’s probably not very good but my friend wants to see it)
i’ll pick up where you left off
inhale, taste the sound of your silence
you are better than black ciagarettes
it didn’t matter that the bread we were baking had risen
or that i’d been too weak to start conversation
in our heavy heads, we found meditation
-
i could have told you
how i loved your tangled, at-home hair
adored your chapped lips
found god in each face you made when you had no one to impress
you see, i like droopy eyes
tired, worried, waxing and waning
i like slack jaws
holding small movements of breath
i like unabashed ugliness
i like silence without consequence
-
if i had opened my mouth, i would have told you everything
but i’ve had to find beauty in the not-telling,
since my sloppy way with words was always a spark compared to the wildfire of our serenity
my body language speaks more concisely than my unorganized speech fragments
i’m constantly editing and rewriting
you inhale, and i pray you taste my thoughts