There are days
I will cry hard tears until my ducts
freeze and ache
and the tears dry out.
My hands will shake and my lips
quiver and a noise like a soft,
silent scream emerges
with no one to hear.
I choke on those memories
like hands wrapped around my throat,
wringing and squeezing and pressing
the life from my lungs until

they’re gone.

A smile breaks across your face
(this, of course, being the secret
stolen by a saint)
stopping my heart
in its wild rhythm of
bump, bump,
beating like a tympani
holding it all together until

it breaks.

I find my hands
clawing for you
reaching for you
yearning for you
tearing at the barrier
hidden
but in plain sight for all to see
you are yours
yours truly
yours alone.

__Yet
that smile remains

as if
that would keep me together

as if
that would prove our
blushing cheeks and shared looks
were worth it

as if
that could ever make
any of this
all better.