Godard Without Pretension (Actors With Tragic Lines)

the breath you exhale,
quiet and sacred to me,
leaves me breathless, like
Godard without the pretension,
and sometimes, it's a choice
between nothingness and love,
where no one is being sincere
-- actors with tragic lines.

I long for your hands,
which hold my heart in place,
Atlas of my universe,
carrying the ugly realizations
of an ugly man, flawed and
scarred. you kiss me anyway,
knowing that winter could steal
us away -- frozen stares forever.

I place your key
inside my chest, being both,
sign and signifier, for timeless
trust in a feeling we both
feel -- the entelechy appearing
entirely outside the realm
of language, drawing the breath
out of me, where, "I love you,"
meets forever.

Silent Devotion

Silent Devotion

the way her hands fit

along the seams of my heart,

like a tailored glove, suits me

fine. the way our mouths

light up at night, glancing back

at the metal moon thinking,

"how did I deserve this?"

never really expressing how

I must've been born lucky

or fulfilled my karmic duty

in a past life, silent devotion

stripping me of my actual love,

leaving behind a bitter shell,

one that doesn't speak when

everything is on the line, watching

her lose interest, saying only,

"talk to me, what's wrong?" 

the hardest thing I do

is not answer.

and the fights will happen,

little things that could've been

avoided, if only I hadn't taken

my vow of silent sabotage

at birth, realizing that it's the only

thing keeping me together anymore

 -- devotion to my own fucking idiocy.

vast and expansive, a Rubicon

of emptiness that I cannot cross

without her love.

as she turns to leave, I

break my vow of silence.

finally saying, "if you decide

to go -- I won't stop you."