||[Jun. 13th, 2011|01:28 am]
Things I loved, but did not love enough.|
The way you laughed
(So hard your heart would pause and stutter once or twice)
Gaps have always stopped me in my tracks.
How you didn’t mind when I placed my ear against your chest without warning.
(You told me once that you only felt at home with the stars)
I showed you Pleides and I remember hearing your breath catch.
The bold plans we used to make after breakfast.
We never did any of them
But it was sort-of unspoken that making things together had been the point.
I’ve always thought tears to be funny. Until I saw yours
And the way your breath rattled uncontrollably
Like we were on our backs, staring at the stars again.
The way your eyes grew wide when you thought I was leaving
(Or when you saw me arriving, depending on the etc.)
More than the three-am-sleep-deprived conversations on television, and bad poets, and you and I, more than all of this, I loved when we were silent.
There was a comfort in being silent with you.
(image by mitch blunt)