maybe a prose never a poem – 10

You stand around that edge. I do the same, and the footsteps of every second start melting over your silence and mine. Anything can seem out of character between the two of us anyway.

We hold on for the dedication that runs without the clarity of faith. Remembering howΒ once there had been a voice that was sweet and clear — the one that could’ve pulled me along those lyrical dreams.

The breeze blows its force… and we fall into the sea, the sea of surrendering smiles and deep embrace. I ask, “Is this what it’s like to overflow with you — after feeling misbegotten and apart from the rest?” A smile and the long embrace are your just replies.Β 

With warm comfort locking up each moment, a knowledge growing stronger, more beautiful at the turn of dusk, a touch is extended by the evening… and we do a soft dance around the moon, until the hour of space intervenes and tells us not to.

***

— geena, april 2017

– by Ryan Jackman