i'm sure she doesn't live there
because i can still feel her in my skin
within the beat of my heart
can taste her smile
today i was reminded
that we do not do our tongues justice
the language we speak doenst fit in our hearts and
the truth makes our mouths awkward
im not warm anymore
but her poems still sings me into consciousness some nights
reminds me of friends over seas and how friend doesnt begin to describe certain people
certain people we born to be connected
but we've found ways to cut our stems
rearrange our roots to grow awkwardly in other directions
tell me
tell me you hear my breath in your dreams
sing my similes to your heartache
tell me there is still a fighting flower trying to grow in our garden
and that maybe
we'll be close enough soon to create something other than faded poetry and memories
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