Dec 25, 2016


It is Christmas.
There is nothing to do here but listen
To the birds, my thoughts,
Hot air through tall trees,
Your breath, heartbeat, the rise and fall of your chest.

I can feel you sometimes
In my gut.
Will this fear ever untangle?
Will I ever be free to love you as I did once,

Can I be awake and in love at the same time?

I can't say. 
For now I just have to feel the quiet pain. 
A memory, like a dull knife.