April 23, 2011 § Leave a comment

Even when there is no use in discussing the past,
There is so much use in recollection.
Collecting pennies from the
year we were born, tea sets,
kisses from boys, then
girls, then the moments of
falling in love with you,
then the hours I spent
listening to your bare feet
dance with the living room floor when
you thought I was asleep.

And the times we forced
Each other into tears, the countless
Tears from
Being two women who cry
At any jolt of the heart, at
Laughter at nothing, at the
Company of one another,
At drowning within the

It is okay to cry when you get
Older and the tea sets and the pennies
Diminish in meaning and you put them
In a box and you leave them on the street labeled
‘free’ to finalize the growth.

It is okay to cry when your
Bare feet are dancing on someone else’s
Floor and I can barely remember the sound,
Even in my sleep,
Especially in my sleep and

I put the tears in a box, I put
Your laughter and your watered eyes
And lips and your scream and
Your distance in a box and I

put the
Box at the street corner outside of
the house
And I crawl into the box
with you,
completely Free.


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