Write who you love

When you said those four words
softly as a kiss, you didn’t
realize they would be haunted
by the ever-present possibility of
absence. Did not know molecules
pulled to each magnetically,
opposites pulled by an irresistible
force. Forced to collapse, bond,
form new substance entire.

Only to slip away
through the thin layer of
skin you stretch over
your sentences.

Slip away and not return.

The words you said and said
again combined, latched to
particle waves; stretched
and flailed out through the
five membranes enfolding the earth
where they were not stopped. Will
fly onward, to eternity,
where I will hear them again
one day, but cannot hear now.

Words which I plead
with my silence
for you to write

© 2010 andrew kooman