Monday, December 19, 2011

Day 881: To Bronte, the girl who dances in and out of me like water

who are the people
who hold you all the time
who know of your dreams
not because you keep the phone lines clean for their breath to flow through easy
but because they travel through them with you

im thinking about the love of my life
and wondering
who holds that part of your heart today
is it a boy from midtown
whos heart has sewn pieces of his poetry into your spine
whos fragments of story i found crashed into you as a constant reminder of the distance of you he's traveled already

is it a boy you love conveniently
one whose body
finds itself near to you often enough to call him dear
call him love
maybe even home
but what about those of us who love you like streetlights
who trust you to hold the shadows off on your side
even in distance
even in silence
even when we havent called in days
now weeks
soon months

what about those of us who have written you lines upon lines upon lines
who have carved your name into the sand
traced our promises
just to have them washed away
those of us who let go of your heart
only to hold onto a different part of you
knowing we'd be able to manage this angle longer if we learned to sacrifice

who is it who is holding you tonight
whose hands are reading the dances my melodies bent into your palms
whose fingers are carving their middle into the beginnings we traced in sidewalk chalk on your torso
whoe lips are finding home agaisnt the heaven of skin on your forehead
will you let him rest there
will you let him hold you

will he understand the weight of you?
the beauty and miracle of it all
how your body bent between his arms like a dance
is the heaviest and most beautiful kind of privilege
the most permanent kind of prayer
will he treat the blessing of you accordingly?
will you allow him that honor?

i hope so.

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