beautiful possibility

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this is not a poem about love,
but rather, the possibility of...

free-falling from doors like
that have failed to serve their purpose

it is alarming
how quickly one forgets
to be

when brittle whispers
splinter and break
becoming dust to be swept under rugs
fear folding into winter clothing
placed on back shelves
of closets in empty rooms

because i have grown tired
of protective coverings and
exoskeletons with
cracks that break and bleed
of histories that read like tragedies
leaving the past to foretell the future

and because
37 reasons
could never begin to answer
the infinite question of why i find you

outstretch your hand
and in it i will lay
the stones that covered
wounds upon my back;
rocks placed over spaces
where wings were once attached

and if they are not too heavy,
the sky will become our playground and,
the horizon, our destination, and
baby we will be sooooo flyyyyyyyyyyy
phoenix style
burning off stale memories
to rebirth melodies
in tune with the songs of the cosmos

no, this is not a love poem
but a poem about the possibility
of nakedness
(and i dont mean without clothes)
but the possibility
of truth
in words that melt away the icy grip
of lessons once learned in blood

because your smile
rewinds the passage of time to days
when all was possible
and 37 reasons
just ain't never enough
to explain why i
find that

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