When I knew you, you were soft

yet sturdy and maliable like

the Koa trees that used to grace my hometown

 

We spoke different languages

My hands and heart threaded words of love into

strips of paper, a symbol of admiration and affection

 

but you couldn't read them

 

When I stopped knowing you, you were cold

yet hot and angry like

the lava that flowed gracefully into Kapoho Bay

 

I couldn't speak to you

I wrote the same words over and over my clumsy

fingers bleeding over threads of cloth

 

but you couldnt see it

 

I weaved my heart into emails and texts and poems

hiding it from you in places you didn't understand

concealed in plain sight, decorated in shards of anguish and loss

 

glistening like the tears of Pele