Still uncovering all the ways to
bend without breaking.
Still looking for a love that doesn’t sting,
that doesn’t require a first aid kit.
Still trying to fix the drought in my
mouth with anything but your saliva.
Still learning the art of persistence,
because the world will say no to you
a thousand times before it says yes.
Still learning how to laugh
Still saying goodbye with a smile
on my face but a heart full of lead.
Still working out the quickest way
to replace old cells.
Still imagining the cicadas outside
the window are an orchestra tuning,
that the rain is you slowly turning
the page of an old creased book,
pushing your sliding glasses further
toward the bridge of your nose,
your lamp shade the only light for miles.
Still pretending breathing isn’t a chore,
that it’s as easy as reading the language
you are fluent in.
They say love is like riding a
bicycle, that once you’ve learnt how to
steer the handle bars you never forget
how it feels, but I always
trip over the pedals,
crash into the asphalt,
wake up with the tires flat.
Is that how it is