(I’m still right beside you)

When I turned the page

Instead of finding THE END.

I found you, again.

Sometimes love is hard

All salt and fighting for light

Always asking why.

I always seem to

Try and read between the lines

Interpret blank space.

But blank space just leads

To restlessness and what-ifs

Alice; rabbit holes.

When you say things like

Maybe we are poetry

I count syllables.

If I can find it

I’ll hold your hand in the dark

As long as you need.

In your eyes, I see

Those old ghosts weighing you down

Spreading fog around.

I love you so, but

Admittedly, my own heart

Is still learning love.

I’m not sure why, but

Doubt is so automatic

Trust an afterthought.

And you should know, love

My own ghosts wear flesh and blood

And have their own ghosts.

I want nothing more

Than to hold you close to me

Breathe in your warm skin.

But the waiting, love

For you to shut down again

Was like an old ghost.

You should know, my love

That yes, we were poetry

Even in silence.