Saturday, January 2, 2016

Gravity

Six Degrees of Separation

Stage 1.

I see rays of sunlight through your window 
And feel your breath across my body like wind 
Swirling sand across the desert floor before rain.
My heart wants to be caught into someone else’s gravity,
Spin me, look,
I’m fragile and beautiful and twirling comes naturally
Like Saturn’s rings, dancing, my breath 
Will cling to the edge of a planet that never asked me to stay.
Like gravity
I feel you pull on parts of me as soon as I know you’re close
And even though you’ve lost your orbit my mind cannot lose you, why is this.

Stage 2.

You have a way of grating off my edges
That you think are inconvenient
Like peeling a carrot
Just to make it more smooth, you said
before I woke up wondering
Why there was less of me, please
Break my heart
But don’t leave it any smaller
Than it used to be

Stage 3.

I have learned
That my concave heart fits the curve of your convex mind
Two lenses bent to fit eachother’s weakness
You curl yourself into me,
I bend myself to try and hold you
but we are made of glass
and we splinter
shatter
and we don't see it
'til we're pressed too far into each other
You show me your sharp edges like battle scars
And I hide mine behind blankets
so I might still look like the angel

that I thought I was
before our fall.

Stage 4.

You left the way the leaves changed color in October
Slowly, and without notice
You are falling from my limbs piece by piece
And suddenly
I am wondering why I am standing here
In the forest
Empty –

Stage 5.

I’m standing in winter rain, rinsing
Your Vaseline words off my limbs
Trying to shed you like snakeskin
Your memories are the plaque on my teeth
Clinging to calcium no matter how hard I scrape, you
are the dandruff in my hair
And I seem to be leaving you
Everywhere

Stage 6.

I feel the wind through branches and fallen leaves
and I think it was just gravity
Meteors falling in flame
before fading into memory
You were never a promise, no
You were a message in a bottle
Floating in a little too soaked with saltwater
You were a tropical storm
and this is the wind after my hurricane
warm and unpredictable
whispering through rubble
and letting me breathe again...  

Stage 1.

You come back to me through different eyes
Darker skin, softer voice,
You tell me I am beautiful and mean it
but you say to me again
That your heart is not strong enough to carry me
And I am wise enough not to let you try.
I stare at the dark winter sky, and sometimes
I wonder when Jupiter’s moons will realize they aren’t circling the sun
Maybe they got caught like me, instantaneously
By something they saw glow for a moment
The stars say, don’t you see it
It lights your whole face every morning
find the sun and your heart never stops chasing
I wake up alone
And see rays through my window
Today I will keep running
Today I have grown large enough, on my own
To be pulled from the planets
And spun by what truly
gives me
light.