Winter, Spring

She tried to call you. A new friend says over a distancing phone line.

I let a silence fall over us,
a familiar blanket bundling
my unresponsive heart.

Maybe my mind.

Both.

I don’t want apathy
slipping off my tongue,
a jacket I’ve let cover
these stoic bones all summer.

I’d rather have fabric cling,
than my unease toward distance
unzip this scattered heart.

It’s no secret.

I want someone
whom I can share silent speech.
Lean my head upon their shoulder.
Speak my brambles unafraid.

Seconds.
Minutes.
Hours.
Days.
Weeks.
Years.

It’s a struggle when you believe
a lie: she doesn’t love you if you don’t
talk everyday.

Life gets in the way.
Dreams take sky.
You are far away.

You tell Jesus.
You miss her
You love her.

You wish you understood why
you cry at thought them forgetting you.
When they haven’t.

Your thoughts are still foggy when she says, 28 times.

You can’t speak.
You’re confused.
When did they become friends?
They never met.

You manage to utter. Okay.
Hang up.

February comes to mind.
Winter’s last hurrah before spring.

Final frostbite before blood
can circulate warmth
needless heavy clothing.

She must have called to say,

Wake up, wake up!
I told I’d come back,
even winter knows I never stay away.

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