Not a Sonnet
Take me to the place where promises go to die
I think my heart is waiting there for you
Holding out its remainders and saying,
“Whatever’s left is yours, if you want it”
It’s that sometimes the most elementary lines can hit us at the hardest place
So I’ll leave the flowery language and the sonnets at the house before I leave
What strikes me most is that no matter what happens, what’s happened cannot be undone
I wouldn’t hope nor wish it, but isn’t it incredible the Rosetta Stones we create in our own hearts
The multiple languages, and not all have yet been cracked
Only when we know ourselves will we break the codes and end the silences
It’s the 808s on this Album Leaf track
That bleed into one another and somehow turn noises into melodies, the incantational phrases running through my mind, as though she were an Olympic runner who’d waited her entire life for this one race
Didn’t you know?
You’re 11:11
You’re the person who swears that vegetable fried rice is still a vegetable
You’re the one who breaks me down by saying it all in French
You’re a minor seventh chord set in D flat major
The one who knows that if you push right there, then I’ll laugh right back
Photograph by Ryan McGuire
