(no subject)

[sliceofcloud]

it is 2:00am and there is a
sound outside, wound up
tightly and unraveling every hour:
what is the sound of shadows
making love? is it the sound of
late hours awake or rain hitting
grass is it the sound of the way
you feel when you haven’t heard
a certain song in a long time or
is it the sound of air passing through
your chest when you’re back some-
where you don’t want to be - and
when the sun leaps over the fence
do shadows continue on talking
in their silent language, some-
place else like you and me, or
do they wait until it is dark again
to make love under our windows
and why do i talk to you at this
hour, when it is so dark that i
cannot see myself i have thought
of a hundred answers and all of
them lead me back to you
they lead me back to you in a
hundred circles a hundred
thoughtless halos with your words
on them and my memories are
tethered to your memories
dreamily, always losing, always
searching for sound, and when
i return to the thoughts the impressions
the hours the words, if’s, and of’s,
i snap back violently
like rubberband to wrist
like habit to need like
shadow cowering from light
i wish i could say i know what
love sounds like but maybe it
is much worse than i imagine