Silk Feather Pillow
If love’s a empty house
creaking floors, broken glass
melancholia dripping down the eaves
Why do your footsteps sound
like the earth
settling down for rest?
If gentle touch
be malicious wraps
Tell me, then, why is there flowers
Growing down the window sills?
No,
no.
Words
falling upon open ears
floating gingerly above seas of vulnerability
Hearts
nudged carefully
instruments of gentler tongues and comforting obscurity
Love
dancing a precarious line between
heart-filled trust
and trust filled hearts
Thou shalt not feel
words’ blunt knife
“You need to help me,”
and
“I do not understand why.”
Because I love you
means not an obligation
not a life sentence
But a solace
a soft orange light and a silk feather pillow
On nights void of stars
and
wishes.