in your eyes would be enough,
one more moment of the way
your gaze meets and still mine
like light held in a prism’s chambers.
But neither of us would believe
that a fraction would ever suffice,
it would only accentuate any absence,
it would make us treat hearts as currency.
And at times you may want far more
than I am capable of giving you,
at times you will pull away from me,
sensing me as some type of storm
within your proximity.
Cyclic from the day we met,
you’ve always known where
I hurt the most
I remember the last thing
that I wrote just for you,
how I should have said much more,
even though you said the words
were more than enough ,
that I was more than enough .
I should have told you what was missing,
that the space in every line
was an intentional parallel,
a place for you to find me in
what was never confessed
and all the places that still hurt.
All the things about you that I know
and still longed to discover
may have been there,too,
breathing quietly and existing
to be slowly uncovered.
Because neither of us believe
that a fraction could ever suffice,
it would only accentuate half measures,
it would examine our moments as currency.
And at times I will lose myself
and want so much more from you,
I would mark you like inked skin
to write our story on your body,
the cyclic pull that goes beyond fixation.
I cannot find the name for such a place,
where I feel this hurt the most,
where you’ve always known me best.
I remember the list I once made
and then locked away in a drawer,
a list detailing the things I should
and shouldn’t have done but they
are only distinguishable to your eyes,
the ones that stilled me like light
held in a prism’s chamber.
How I never said that when I traced
along the lines of your palms
they were like some long forgotten cursive,
a lonely history I already know too well.
How I unraveled alongside the sweet nothings
you whispered after hushing
my parted lips with a lone fingertip,
how such a sudden silence could
puncture any words I may have formed.
How you were the one actually cradling me
long after we were uncovered,
spent and wrapped like a braid,
my heart’s rhythm still incessant,
yours a soothing tap against my ear.
Saying to listen closer and I’ll know
everything about the place
I cannot find a name for,
telling me where you love,
where you hurt the most.
Where we were more than enough.
