Words

Words are a crevice I chiseled
In the middle of the wall,
The tesseract through which our fingertips touch.

Words are a loophole
In the laws of sadness,
A cheat in the crying game.

In words I can summon you
To emerge from any crowd,
I can watch you cross the street toward me,
I stand one person away from you
In the elevator.

I have made them our refuge,
Our microcosmic bomb shelter
Buried deep beneath the layers
Of fear and despair.

Words are a cavern I dug out
In the middle of a wall,
There in a there that’s not here
Nor in the end where you stand,
There where we can fool time and space
And hide together
And be.

No Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email is never shared.Required fields are marked *