She’s not sleeping
like she should.
She’s too busy dreaming
with her eyes open.
dark hair covering your eyes
i wonder how you can
even see through it
i wonder why i cant
see through you.
you hold it out like a weapon
a weapon you’re not sure you are ready to use
after a rapturous struggle we rest
I put my ear to your chest
as I listen for the signal to your next earthquake
across the increasing distance of our continental drift
comes the low rumble as your affections shift
like tectonic plates
and the house I’ve built on your seismic divide
shakes and cracks as your halves grind settle and slide
and the aftershock when the turmoil abates
is the quick crisp snap of my heart
when it breaks