Poetry

Glass Walls

You’re grinning at me

and I can tell it’s real because it reaches your eyes.

We’re working together so closely that we can touch,

lean against each other if we wanted.

And yet our lips have lost the ability to form words,

to speak the way we speak

freely

when we don’t have to hide,

don’t have to pretend

that the extent of our friendship

is a few words in passing.

A pane of glass would be less of a barrier,

at least it could be broken.

Poetry

Into the fog

The fog on the bathroom mirror covers my face,

coating it in a weariness I can normally only see inside.

Droplets run down;

tears I cannot shed.

My mouth is a watery line,

anxious and unsure of who I am.

 

Then you come in and open the window.

The glass clears as you lean against me,

easing my expression to a soft grin

as the warmth seeping from every inch of you

fills my heart.

Poetry

Friend

The modulation of your voice soothes the words into my mind,

gentle nudges that become understanding; a pause to let me ponder

before you begin again. No judgement, no masks, no need to block up

who I am just to stroll under the blossoms and shadows.

Comfortable in my movements when I’m beside you, my language

is easy for you to read. I might not say much, but you know I am far from silent

and pick up the waves I’m unconsciously drifting on.

Poetry

Just drifting

I have a little boat

made of brown,

overlapping leaves.

As it floats down the steady, gentle stream,

I lie back

and hook

my legs over the side

so my toes

kiss the cool water.

The movement makes a ripple.

The ripple knocks

against my little boat,

lulling me into a soft doze.

I walk in and out of dreams,

drifting along

enjoying the journey,

unconcerned by where

I might end up.

Just like my little boat,

edging on,

unconcerned,

down the stream.