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Where We Move

Where We Move

Tags: love, poem, sad
There's a place where we move past infatuation, 

where blazes cool and become embers that are

still lively but must be acknowledged 

and touched to recall the fiery origins of.

And all you ever have to do is brush your hand

along my face to soothe these unceasing clocks 

and make me remember exactly who you are.

Because there will be days that bleed into one 

another with little to distinguish their passing, 

where our once careful guards withdraw the

same way tides pull back to reveal the sands beneath, 

and the subtle traits we once found so endearing become

Raised voices and the prolonged quiet that 

can take days to shatter the aftermath of.

But I'll still be there every night sleeping beside you 

and keeping the promise we once made to never

part from the waking world fuming from what may have been said, 

I'll still be here when your eyes flutter open 

in the morning and my hand softly squeezes yours.

There's a place where we move past the opiate of first meeting, 

where we know the other's stories word for word 

and the chasms left by each flaw we've been too 

afraid to show anyone else.

Because there will be nights when our better angels sleep, 

where they withdraw and the words we scream crash 

and crush us like falling tides beneath, 

and the hold we have over each other becomes

A weapon more complex and deadly than a gun's loaded chamber 

or the first taste of poison because it is unseen, 

has already burrowed deep into us.

But all I ever have to do is pull you to me and 

close my lips around yours to stop time's cold 

passage for a moment and make you remember who I am.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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