til i’m blind

you are a dream I wake to, the subway jerking
my near blind eyes open.
there you are,
your face in the man walking across the platform
determined,
not sad.
and the tender secret is perched at my throat:
the mercy of uncurling a fist.

we are in an unexplained calm,
singing again
but slow and hoarse
careful not to extend our vocal muscles
beyond our capabilities.

and I am mundane actions
still seeing your face in passers-by, glad and at ease.
you are still here,
in these aching fingertips
counting my silent prayers.

the end

We are where hurt is an ocean
deep and wide, far reaching and connecting to unfamiliar lands.

We suddenly find ourselves drowning in the centre,
we are too weak to hold our heads above the water
surrendering to the black ink engulfing our bodies

and it is different this time, there are no lifeguards, no lifejackets
in this sea. It was just him and I, the arms of seaweed slowly
pulling me lower, dragging the air from my lungs,
tearing the wings from my back–
a reminder I am only a fish out of water.

So I am brought home, amongst the incantations,
the mild curses of a people with little concern for love.
attempts of escape are futile, we will be pulled back into
this gaping hole of pain, led to believe that
there is no sunlight above the water’s calm ripples

It was better before, when in my heart I was standing at the edge
of the ocean. Though they took my wings, they could not stop
my heart with their words
it stayed above water
on the shore, where like a rock, it was sprayed with ocean water
waiting for my body to plan an escape.

The calm waves swept over it, polishing it with a salty erosion of time.
But it finds itself at the end of its plan, the end of its bearing,
salted water burning its skin in the sun’s rays,
so it comes home to me.

There is sorrow lurking beneath the waters, a quiet destitution
and what remains of our lives is beneath the waves, biding our days with slow melodies
and blurry memories of the world.