Tagged: air

the air around us

the air around us
tremble before we touch, it
happens every time –

molecules pushing aside
other molecules for a kiss


at long last, we have

in an infinity of

in an infinity of
worlds, you and i must
exist countless times,
we can only pull
back the curtains,
walk between the
loosened air
between us,
when it rains

we are lunatics

by the water’s edge,

by the water’s edge,
holding it in is still more
noble than letting
it out. you show
me this by way of
example, the centuries
of men and women –
fathers and mothers,
daughters and sons
friends and lovers –
who by day held
their struggles
humming within
the palms of their
hands and by night
plunged them into
waters as deep as their
breaths, coming up
for air, whispering
only into the gaps
between the stories
that were meant
to be told, passed on

somewhere where my heart

somewhere where my heart
has gone into hiding, curtains
sway ever so slightly
with the repeated
melody of you escaping
through the cracks,
like light, air, a double-
trill, fingers still
reaching for that
practiced evenness

on this side of

on this side of
sky, the air is
crisp, windy,
and some
blues can still
use a bit
of polishing
to better reflect
your cool smile