Tag Archives: Sighs

The Fragile Night full of Sighs without you here

When I turn forward towards silence and it breathes on me like an angry rooster with amnesia, I want to forget too but silence reminds me of sounds I had forgotten, or had wanted to hear, like the water dripping into the sink from your wet hair or some magnetic little whisper that chews through time and asks me ‘Was I worth the wait?” while releasing thousands of sigh gatherers inside the spaces between your words where the silences remember how to dance and die with honor in nature. Somewhere in you is a burden of agonies that I want to kiss and open wide like a haunted memorial, made of soil and feathers of an extinct bird, to rebuild, release through the little rivers found inside your lips and here I am, alone, with silence that doesn’t know how to behave and when I lay in bed and you’re not beside me, the space fills with portraits made of memories that both happened and did not  and will and I begin dreaming before I sleep, hoping to carry that ache into my dreams to send to you, a little subconscious sonar of subtle harmonics soothing dissonance, a prayer without lips.