some things we never said

some things we never said                                 September 11, 2017
you told me part of that story
your story
16 years ago my love
–can i still call you my love?–
but my heart was frozen
i tried so hard to be
cool enough for you
these wasn’t any me
left for us

i wrote you a book that year
because i wanted to say i love you
i meant it for a birthday present
for your 29th
but i never gave it
because i loved you too much
to risk
saying i love you

i clung to you like frost
on a colorado december day
and needing a plastic chisel
to scrape off

what were we afraid of?
other than our own shadows
and the chasm between our hearts
thick as a hair and deeper
than the milky way?

do you remember you asked
me to marry you on an october afternoon?
let’s run away to vegas, you said
for thanksgiving break
i was barely 18
and had just enough sense to say no
but only because
we never said i love you

i did once
and only once
but you said nothing
so i said nothing
ever again

in a few weeks i’ll be 34
and i’m the splatter
on life’s cracked windshield
waiting for the squeegee

and now we tell these stories
with tenderness and mercy

there was another night you
passed out on another bathroom floor
a night i watched your back
watched to see you breathe
and cried over your bony body

and there’s another child i longed for
but i only tell of this one i grieve now
because even today
old and a thousand miles apart
some things can never be said
including i love you

About m

My ego wants to think I'm a writer but my heart knows I'm just another one of God's Kids who sometimes has words to say. 2 human kids and 3 feline kids call me Mom. Or Mooooooom. Or mewom, depending which you ask. I'm kinda-sorta busy being a student again; this time I signed myself up for a bizarre torture known as Graduate School. Theoretically in 4ish years I'll have earned some more nice letters to put with my name. Let's face it, I'm addicted to learning and probably need rehab to restore me to sanity and remove the obsession to read books. I don't remember what free time is but I think I like to spend it sleeping or playing in the mud on a river bank.
This entry was posted in creative writing, poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s