When I can’t find a heartbeat
deep inside your chest
When I can’t find a life
in this beautiful mess
I scribble words on paper
and hope they make sense.

I know, I know
nobody else
is this tied up inside
each and every
minute of every
hour of every
day.

I hide inside
a corner of the
twisted file cabinet that is my mind,
scribbling,
agonizing,
tossing paper birds out windows
and still I can’t reach you.

It’s a maze of
cheerful little white lies
to get her out of trouble,
hoping the next day
she’ll love me more.

It’s an endless cycle of
squeezing my fist
so hard it hurts,
hoping that somewhere
there will be a light
around the corner.

It’s a life of my
fake photographer smile,
each and every
minute of every
hour of every
day.

I panic in the corner of the
twisted file cabinet that is my mind,
scribble a simple phrase,
toss the last paper bird out my window
and wish wish wish.

A paper bird
Touches lightly on your window glass,
floats softly down to the sill
and I hold my breath
as you let it in.
Green eyes skim the paper,
a simple four words.
Hidden behind the curtain
in a shadow of anticipation
you catch my eye
and somehow, finally
I reach you.

But still,
once in a while
I can’t find a heartbeat
deep inside your chest
and I can’t find a life
in this beautiful mess
so I scribble words on paper
and hope they make sense.