domesticity

the familiarity of you and me
hurts
would it be too much to ask for
recognition

it was not meant to be said
to be said
to be meant
to be

to be read between the lines

for an undercurrent
pidginized slowly against the edges of my soul
this haunting need

your laugh is echoed by the walls
that whisper straight to the left ventricle of my heart
aorta
it pumps life into my body, your occurrence

necessary and frequent
although no longer seeking

this existence of numbness
has no more pain
only happiness

maybe
it was meant to be
in another lifetime

before you could
you would
see it to mean as so much more than this
thirteen