my word is my gospel
a body made up of snatches
of conversations
kind words from chapped lips
various pen inks
staining the skin of my hands
and blunted fingertips
believing so fiercely in a love
that i can only hope believes
in me too
and i think a lot about empty spaces
so many voids to fill
like how your hand would fit
in mine
and we could laugh about my sweaty palms
like how a girl
i loved held my hand that first time
and said she wasn’t afraid
she wouldn’t be ashamed
walking by people in a crowded mall
and flipping through baby name books
like we deserved a future together
i think about your cold feet
wondering if there are holes
in socks that you keep forgetting
to sew and wishing there
were a way to close
those gaps of darkness
nestled between your ribs
we could plant flowers there
ya know
plants i promise not to kill
painting a black thumb green
if only to see you smile
and i think about kissing you
i think about it a lot
but i don’t have that kind of courage
still trying to believe in love
like i did as a child
writing that darkness into
something tender and soft
smoothing out those jagged edges
like carding fingers through your
messy hair
filling those gaps with
sunshine and smiles
and your name on my lips
a new favorite taste
giving myself a happy ending
and that’s okay