I should have told you about these hands

I have love birds
for hands,
they are mated
for life.
They stay beautiful
for life,
they bring one
another life,
they clasp tightly
together at night.
They know
left from right,
wrong
from
right
I keep these hands
just under my hips,
which are under my lips
and my chest.
They send echoey signals
to the ocean,
and hope that a lighthouse shines back.

(I keep marking this spot with x's
and hope that the treasure comes back.)

I leave
feathers from my wings
in the back cars
of better things.
I send
salty swear words
into the slightest of glass bottles.
And float them out
with weathered hopes.
I hope
you can sound it all out.
I hope
you never found out,
that I
remembered you in a dream
like a
rotten apple I had once picked from a tree.
I saw
a worm eating its fill
and when it was done
I think
the apple had been killed.

but unlike the death of a strawberry
this apple
cannot bleed.
And Still,
a worm is a worm
and it needs to feed.
absolutely.
like the love I feel-
Call me factual
because this is real.
and if you've been half
and if you've been whole
you know what it means
to have a heavy soul
but not just heavy
I'm talking
.
.
.
.
....sinking

Started with all that 3 a.m thinking
when dreams are told like jokes,
and I'm figuring out
how much candle is left
until my house smells real.
And every song that comes on is an absolute reminder
that everything that's ever been disastrous
is lurking inside us.

but that's so many stories.
and this is just one,
I'll tell you I'm broken
I'll tell you I'm done

Broke.
as in broken.
Just like the boat
we sat in
when we were out smoking.
just like the moat
we swam across
when you told me
all was lost...


I should have told you about these hands.