And Blessings On Blessings

and blessings on blessings

they whisper daily

till gloom lifts to shine

till his lips meet mine

someone said to me that lovers raises their voices when their hearts are far apart. he consciously chooses to never raises his voice at his girlfriend so that her heart never has a reason to drift.

he picked up pieces of me

scattered like bread crumbs

and held them close

warmed them up in his palms

i am conflicted.

how can i cherish the memories of us that are undoubtedly happy— that i undoubtedly love— without falling back in love with you?

how do i reclaim the memories of a critical time in my life and make them truly mine when a rift in space would be closer than my memories and the reality of you?

Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

new memories

scribbled like prose

across brick walls

in layers

of crawling vines

overwriting the old

reshaping fireworks

into gentle waves

to wash away

what's written in the sand