Sometimes, I make these promises
that dangle from threads
that flap in the wind
You hear me, somewhere deep
and there is a quickening
in your chest
Only to be snuffed out
as my words
fly away
loose and easy
on the breeze
I should know by now
that to say what you don't mean
is to lie
And if love rejoices
in the truth
my dear boy
Then what is my heart
really whispering
into yours?
So, I stop.
I turn off everything
but my love
I sit at the table
and curse my clumsy hands
that try so hard
And in the wake of my unease
I cut green and brown shapes
that don't match
the way they should
I make knots and pull thread
and if you squint
real hard
you might be able to make out
some semblance of a figure
It is at that moment that I learn
what you already knew
that sometimes
Love looks like Yoda
linking up with L.L. Barkat today
That sounded sort of melancholy. Who did you make the figure for? It was definitely interesting to read. You are so special. Love you
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