through filaments
poison-tips of hair
– and there
between your words
and your smile –
nearly caught
but never quite close enough
is the true meaning
of what was.
Transmitted along
the wires that carry
your hot blood
to your hot fingers
and your cold feet,
is a message
what you and I
never have the words for
as we press close together,
never close enough
though so hard it’s painful.
the data carried
by each strain of each muscle
the morse code pulse
of each swollen vein
the sweet distress call
that leaves me hanging
The foreign-language laughter
of a heart in pain.

March ’08


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x





All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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