unfinished

[wonderingwhere]

do i still believe in the power of words?
that there is something to be said
for perfectly encapsulating a moment
a mood, a feeling, an absence
within a line?

i feel like that's what i do
i stitch together these consonants with
deliberation
in the hopes that hearing
or seeing what's in my heart
might make his failures
more easy to bear

a word will never be the blue of the sky
or the moment before the fog lifts in the morning

a word can never become a promise shared between lovers
or the lie told to protect the love they have

why is it i take solace in the phrase?
the cacophony of emotions
the racket created by my lips
to give purpose to this, the relentless beating of my heart?

what is it about the line
that can break me into tiny pieces
and then seep inside and cement me back together
never to be the same again?

i know that you love me, but can you say it again?
this time, with feeling.

i know that you want me, but can you say it again?
this time, with meaning.

i want to be unraveled in poetical form.
i want to feel the lines on the page
were pulled from my skin, each word
like yarn from my flesh