Upon the dock I sat
Wishing, no,
Waiting for a charm
To fulfill my absence;
A lingering presence
Like lapping monotony
In waves of a silent pool,
Like an overgrown tree
Burgeoning against
My well worn mind,
Saddened,
Drawing figure eights
In shadows of every doubt.
Your choice is my misunderstanding
And for that I am sorry
Your past experience is my current overstepping
And for that I am sorry
Your love is my overwhelming
And for that I am sorry
Your human is my object of admiration
And for that I am sorry
Your patience is my forever questioning
And for that I am sorry
Your vision is my deep desiring
And for that I am sorry
Your time is forever my story
And for that I am sorry
Your absence is my sit and worry
And for that I am sorry
Your journey is my wildest dream
And for that I am sorry
Your heartbeat is my symphony
And for that I am sorry
Your light steps is my pitter-patter
And for that I am sorry
Your sleeping lips are my favorite dream
And for that I am sorry
Your calmest question is my quickest help
And for that I am sorry
Your silence is my sentence
And for that I am sorry
But my love, no, for my love
Which I will not delay
For that I am not sorry
I fall awake into the absence of your hands,
Shaking dust into stray beams of sunlight
As I whisper back and forth
With my memory, so strong.
I pull your innocence into my heart
In every deep pull of Chardonnay
Quietly fluttering my anxious wings,
Slowly settling into unheard of figures
Delicately drawn by grand gestures
On blank slates of dust.
I can understand.
I can see the absence.
I can feel the space.
I sigh when there.
Yet still,
My footsteps don’t echo
As loudly as hurried
Passer-byers.
Perhaps it’s understanding.
Long lineups in hot sun.
Perhaps it’s in your breath
Upon my skin.