We never speak
not in any language,
not in arid plains
or within
these exposed boundaries.
We never say -
I open myself to you
(and never will).
Your oak floors
lie gleaming, empty as
the naked hills.
You refuse to come my way,
not three paces, not sideways,
not even in a dream.
What we avoid,
is contemplating space. Ripping what is pristine
into pure language and air – turning rejection to
warm blood and welcoming pulse.
Dumbstruck:
below our brimming hearts,
the astonishing devastation.
(Originally published in "Mannequin Envy")
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