is this what it takes?
silence is my best weapon.
i think i’ve grown tired of
i think i’ve grown tired of the
itching around the eyes the
anonymity we have to hide
behind in order to save ourselves
the human face
what is it you’re so afraid of?
as if the question could be answered
just by simply betraying the silence
and letting words fall around us
like rose petals, rain, or ashes.
i haven’t written a poem i meant
since you left.
i hope you packed my voice somewhere
in your carry-on
i hope finding you means finding me
although others would shake their
head at the thought of losing yourself
like they’re never guilty of such
like they’re too clean to spend their time
digging ruthlessly through the soiled
lost and found.