Is That Love?

I wanted to be in all those spaces when you paused for breath
in a conversation and thought about what you were hearing
and maybe didn’t know what to say
but you
I wanted to be that feeling
I wanted to absorb all of the sounds your heart made
the beating
the skipping
the breaking
and turn them into music you could sing
if you sing something it makes it easier to remember
takes the sting away
I wanted to be that ache
that comes over someone when they watch the sunset
or sit on the beach not counting the minutes
only the waves
I wanted to be the smile
the one you didn’t know was visiting your face
Is that love?
to be in the places and spaces in between?
I don’t know
But I have collected all your chipped corners
and broken bits and pieces and smoothed the edges so they’d fit
and I will hold them in place until the glue dries
and if that’s not love
it should be





About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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