21/30

I’ve wanted to tell you
in your absence
and in my healing
just how much
I have missed you.

And each time I try
to give those words meaning
I am dumbfounded
by the inaccuracy
in which those words
are able to convey
the longing inside.

So instead,
we graciously
allow silence to fill the air
with uncertainty
and “I love you’s”
and “I miss you’s”
attempt to hold up our love
like scaffolding built
in meager fashion
and the space
in which we share our connection
swells with the emotion
of a hundred men
unable to speak
of how they love.

There is no poetry
we could create
outside of the love we live
in the daily struggles
of the difficulties
we encounter
and in the
inevitable wounding
our understanding of love
inflicts.

Our poetry is found
in the way our hearts
reach out in distances
we thought were
unable to reach.
These words are merely
fragments of letters
arranged and agreed upon
to fill the silent air
that so many have yet
to learn how to listen to.

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