Unquantifiable

I follow the possibilities,
the tangents flowing and split
like infinite intersecting rivers,
the worlds I dream of with you.

It hasn’t happened yet….

My fingers drawing through
your gorgeous dark locks,
the blush of a warm cheek,
the smile after sleepy love is made.

Bodies as two puzzle pieces that spent
years knowing their other half
would finally come along one day,
curves nestled and secure,
hearts like kites sailing through hurricanes,
battered and scared, but surviving
any heavy and violent weather.

It hasn’t happened yet….

A fingertip upon my lips
to gently still my voice,
to stop me from spilling
any secret or pain
because you teach me

You remind me how the most
beautiful and, yes, even painful
things are exchanged in silence,
telegraphed with hearts
beating against palms.

It hasn’t happened yet….

Instances where I may mess up
that moment from time to time
and speak anyway
and say the wrong thing.

Things my pulse could’ve whispered,
confessed as loving but scared rivers
flowing parallel to your own.

I still learn how a name can crack and warm
th heart in equally unquantifiable measures,
but there is no arithmetic sequence,
no metrology to articulate how deep
this can all really cut me.

The tangents still flow and intersect,
whether through synchronicity
or unknowable scripted fates,
some possibilities scare me.

Some already feel like memories almost made,
unfinished segments that I can’t touch,
I still follow these flashes
of what I haven’t done.

Your name spoken close to your ear,
soft like murmurs from a dream
as we make sleepy love late in the night,
essence exchanged in the most ancient dance.

Another dance sweeps through,
another time and place,
rings on both of our fingers,
a semi-crowded hall moves to music
as we swayed to our own,
a helpless blushing spills across your cheeks
each time I pull you closer and learn more
about the beat that moves you the most.

It hasn’t happened yet….

Forlorn with a fingertip upon my lips
to gently still my voice one night,
surrounded by your perfume and heat,
too dizzy with sensation at first to notice
the faintest teardrops falling from your cheek,
the one pressed so close to mine moments ago
to remind me how the most beautiful and painful
things are exchanged in the deepest silences,
telegraphed by the body we are meant
to always be closest to and know best.

But there have been instances
when I mess up and speak anyway,
words pouring from where I hurt,
magnified insecurities from nods and winks
to others that you say mean absolutely nothing,
that you’re not trying to break my heart,
maybe you’re right, my love.

Maybe it matters to me that what’s breaking
was already split into vulnerable halves
because all that my pulse whispers,
confesses as loving, scared rivers,
still flow parallel to your own.

How could some words not hurt?

“I am sorry, that is all I can say,
understand that this is for the best,
please stay close to me
so we can work on this,
I still want a future with you
if you are still there. “

And I know I will be because
I don’t feel like me without you
and could never remove your name,
it’s the only one that will ever belong with me.

And I learn how a name can crack and warm
the soul in equally unquantifiable measures,
no metrology to chart how deep
you’re cutting me now.

Those tangents spread to dark places,
segments too painful to cling to
but I can never stop myself
from reaching for their shapes.

Some already feel too familiar to the touch,
instances of what hasn’t happened yet….

My hands finding you in the dark,
moonlight across your eyes,
so shiny that you seem to be
welling up with fresh tears.

And for all I know about you…..

Your favorite colors,
your beauty beneath
clothes and make up,
the books, movies, and songs
that move you in every way,
what heals and cuts
you to the core,
the way you taste,
the ceaseless love
within your embrace….

There are moments like this where
I don’t know if you’re pulling away
into a darkness you’ll refuse
to ever let me reach,
or if you’re about to telegraph
signals only I know and draw me
closer beyond anyone possibly can.

I didn’t get answers then…..

Your mouth sealed around mine
to answer an aching I sensed
deep within our shared silence,
yours, mine, or both….
I couldn’t say.

But I do know that the way my pulse beats,
the way our hands entwine
and tighten at the exact same second….
that isn’t coincidence or by accident.

Even if we’re not meant
to be blameless or perfect,
whatever you’re torn between,
whatever possible tangent
it moves you through,
we’re not meant to be apart,
I’ll be waiting on the other side.

Those tiny moments, beautiful and sacred,
ones that haven’t happened yet,
the passion I know in you so well
that’s like lightning through your veins,
the tears you’ve already spilled out
for and because of me,
for and because of what makes you flee
until my words are a dream’s illegible
clingy mess written along the walls….

Those moments cut deepest
but love survives our careless blades.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself here.

I’ve a habit of rambling like that,
instances where I see too much in something,
or something in what isn’t even there,
a flaw you always graciously forgive me for

Before I ever said it comes
from my most vulnerable place,
and showing that to you,
infusing the coordinates
in my own tears and aches,
you’re the first I’ve given that map to.

The first I can tell everything to,
even my words are wrong at times,
I have plenty of examples.

“It hurts me so much to see nods and winks,
seeing the sudden changes and my name gone,
I feel like you’re fucking erasing me
line by line like it was nothing
and you’re so happy about it,
why am I even pouring all of this out
when you have time for others
and only a few vague words for me? “

I’m not blameless, either,
anger has clenched through me
as well as jealousy in ways
no man can be proud of.

I’m trying my very best,
for you and me,
for us.

Maybe I should be more understanding,
that these nods and winks are casual,
that these pictures mean nothing
just like you said.

I know the love we have is beyond that.

Just try to remember that little things
and sweet nothings can cut the deepest
and mean everything.

I’ve learned that the unquantifiable
is still always felt even if
true articulation is impossible,
but I can grab snapshots
of those infinite tangents
whether I understand them or not,
whether following them
will crack or heal me.

And, for as long as I’ve gone on for here,
I want to tell you another,
one of my favorites that’s happy,
I think you would like me
leaving off on a hopeful note.

It hasn’t happened yet….

These things I dream of most….

To trace my fingers along you
in your favorite patterns,
sleep gradually claims you
and I continue to touch
long after your eyes close.

Patterns I seem to have always
known like a hidden lifeline
exactly measured as my own
and when a smile bloomed
across your lips hours later
that you’d never remember,
I still would love to think
it was just for me.

To exchange a promise in silence
when arms slip around you,
curves nestled and secure,
this is home to me,
I don’t feel like me without you.

And while you take the time you need,
my promise is infinite,
kept in every river we flow through,
unquantifiable in every world we meet in.