Stillborn Poems

I think about your body, and mine. These shells. The secrets they have inside. Your smile

I like the way you touch my hair,
move it across my shoulders
reveal skin to kiss

what I know

“how do you trust so easily?”

his whole voice is a question,  hanging between us. I sense that this question is the beginning of a long journey for him. We ask each other the wrong questions, or incomplete ones. “How do you trust so easily (while I cannot trust myself or anyone else at all)?”

I smile, because he thinks at first this is a weakness, or a vulnerability, and he is right that it is a vulnerability. He expects me to say I don’t trust. Or that I do because he will never hurt me.

I smile, and tell him:
“I am a bird, resting on a branch. I have chosen it well, with a bird’s instinct. It will support my weight. I do not think it will break. But if it breaks, I have my wings, and I will fly with a bird’s instinct. I trust you. I trust myself. You cannot have one without the other”

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