my shadow creaks like an old house—
lived in and loved; my shadow, darker every day,
runs across the shifting floor spilling life, raging light.
i wonder why i bother using words at all
when i can’t use them as well as you.
i’ve watched myself disappear but this
is resurrection. your shaking hands, enough
to put the pieces back in place and hold me
in an embrace so fickle that it breaks with the day.
but you said, “look at me, stay with me, we’ll be okay…”
you know, time passes differently for us.
clocks tick the same but when i tick where it hurts
it’s always my metaphors. if time was water,
you’d be ice, and i’d be the heat
of the moment and you’d be flowing again,
you’d be glowing in this strange darkness,
this creaking shadow, my lunar eclipse;
my emotional ammo. now that we’re comrades
in a war we’ve lost so many times before,
the dust can finally settle in our hearts.
the rusty blade of my shadow cuts deep.
my shadow breathes, my shadow creaks.
my shadow blisters into a forehead kiss.
my shadow, dark. my shadow, darker.
my shadow/your heart.
you look tired. hold me. and rest. we’ll be okay.
we’ll be okay.