Words
Poetry becomes concrete when written
My mouth longs for what wasn’t said
I sit searching for the moments I can laugh again
Instead I look at your fashion flaws
Frayed jeans accented by expensive shoes.
Your head turns to my request to style.
I didn’t touch your hair. Could I? Would I?
Appeals will be released?
I surrender to poetry.
Frozen in time I know you somewhere:
The electricity of who I am will be freed.
Words and Feelings no longer constrained.
A gentle kiss will return.
My words and needs to tell you more.
Will flow, being made solid,
Wherever they land they will be ours.
