Tell me of your lonely nights, of the trembling corners of your darkness.
Tell me of your fleeting fears, both of abandon and of being held.
Tell me how it was once, of love’s intimate embrace, of days of innocent play.
Tell me how you thought it would be, of the glory and the happily ever after.
Keep talking.
And while you cleanse your soul with your expressed sponges,
My eyes will look into yours, my ears attentive like a loyal dog’s.
And I will go for a walk, digging old meadows, searching for yesteryears buried treasures,
How I played atop a cherry tree, eating of it fruits until I regurgitated the color of blood
The remote days when my uncle hailed his manhood by the flight of the kicked plastic ball
How my father dried leaves inside an old book which sucked the tree’s marrow,
How pleased I was awakening the dormant words on the page, inviting them to dance inside my head.
As you and I sip on life’s sweet nectar, across green landscapes,
Homing geese of life’s wild memories journey back.
Keep talking.
I’m rocked in my mothers’ bassinet, by the rhythmic sounds of your breath, your words’ waves washing ashore,
And though your utterances swarm around me like summer bees stinging before they die,
My love for you soothes those wounds, healing ailing canyons between us,
As we hold each other’s hands and drunkenly stumble back home.
