Bricks and cotton.

Some permutation of gravity,
I spin my ellipsis round again
Spun back into comfortable, and safe
Like that old blanket, or some
Well-worn slippers.
That kind of comfort.  The kind everyone wants to say they don't need.
I stay skittish.
I stay wary.
Little wolfish at the table, I'm scared and hungry for roots.
Drifting panic comes easy, old habits die hard
But- that smile so easy, that dream so real and painfully tangible
I just didn't know how to hurt right, ever.
And then didn't know how heal.
So, I knit back my skin one fiber at a time.
I sew myself to you in phrases
"I love you", I sing;
"I'm sorry", you sigh.
"I won't" you promise:
And "we'll try".
But we.
It's easy to be alone.
You slowly wall yourself off, immurement.
Brick by brick.
We only stay alive, only find ourselves or God or something that means anything
Through eachother.  Through and through, not above or below or around but Through.
And so I stay open.
I keep working through.
Cause in the end I love you like I love water.
I can do without, but not for long.
I've found some wind in my sails and I'll find more cotton to
Sew together.
Yours and mine.
Brick,
By careful brick.

Lost Sleep.

Three o'clock and all is well.
Sleep and fleeting dreaming
Breathing hot and heavy on my neck
Open wide bright clouds and wash
My smoking soot-hair clean.
Three o'clock
O' holy hour of our night
Snow-thick blanket on the city's sparking lights and heaving tires.
Three o' wandering
Three o' wondering
Three o' keeping quiet watch
Shepherds of another morning, another soul to lose, another flock of counted sheep.