Yours
written by: Carmen Frech Oliveri
I refused to write you a love poem,
and even when I tried,
my fingers betrayed me,
so instead I wrote you into
my poems,
crafting you over and over,
hoping that you would know
what I could never tell you,
that you were always there,
the villain,
the victim,
the earth,
the ocean,
the impending doom,
the oranges of the sun setting again and again,
you were her and you were also him,
the edge of every letter and every pause in between,
lingering in each breath as I pondered where to go next,
and the more that I searched for the words,
the more I found your voice beating in my chest,
your skin in mine,
your hand
and mine,
and so I thought so much of how not to tell you,
the ways in which I kept you,
the things that I could never give you,
I thought of the poem
that was never a love poem
but was
yours.
I am happy to rejoin the world of poetry, after so many years of silence. We all know that a little bit of ourselves lives and breathes in every single written word. Thank you kindly for reading.
