Worrier

We were talking about love, you and I.

You asked how, but I couldn't explain.

Language failed its reason for existence, again.

I think of this infliction,

with its far-reaching fingers

infinite like stars, 

ephemeral like stars burning.

pain.

I think of the steam he and I layer on the windows

when we collide in the dark

of the silence when I must leave. 

I think of the ache of not being able to show you,

to show you,

my worrier. 

Reviews

[Bertie]

This is fantastic my dear, I love it..
I love how straight forward the writing is; in the sense that you've removed any excess words and left only the most emotive and important, I'm very much into removing excess stuff at the moment so this for me is just spectacular.
I also love that compared to the 'Black' I get far more of an emotional reading from the speaker of the poem; it has an edge of an attitude, with the ",again"... calling love an 'infliction' it has a edge of annoyance at not feeling like the words will come when you need them most..."of the silence when I must leave" is probably my favourite line in the poem; it feels like the climax of the poem to me and ironically for a line about silence, it says so many things... A great poem darling well done x

[Samuel Dickens]

In reading the four poems you have posted at this time, I think I see a common thread of love, doubt, and other aspects of relations. Maybe something recent, but maybe not. As always, your writing is great.

[Robin]

Words poured from the heart

[Coyote Poetry]

I like the way you used the language in the poem. In some situation we go to places of silence. I did like the ending. A short poem with a lot of emotion and meaning. Thank you for the excellent poem.
Coyote

[Emily B]

you do so much with the words you choose