Silk Feather Pillow

If love’s a empty house

creaking floors, broken glass

melancholia dripping down the eaves

Why do your footsteps sound

like the earth

settling down for rest?

If gentle touch

be malicious wraps

Tell me, then, why is there flowers

Growing down the window sills?

No,

no.

Words

falling upon open ears

floating gingerly above seas of vulnerability

Hearts

nudged carefully

instruments of gentler tongues and comforting obscurity

Love

dancing a precarious line between

heart-filled trust

and trust filled hearts

Thou shalt not feel

words’ blunt knife

“You need to help me,”

and

“I do not understand why.”

Because I love you

means not an obligation

not a life sentence

But a solace

a soft orange light and a silk feather pillow

On nights void of stars

and

wishes.